


Evil Author Day 2016

by Tazzy_Ladynero



Series: Evil Author Day [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Original Work, She-Ra: Princess Of Power, Trinity Blood, World of Warcraft, 神々の悪戯 | Kamigami no Asobi
Genre: All deaths are mentioned, Death Knight origin story, Do I really have to list all the characters in this?, Everyone gets better, Evil Author Day, F/M, Gen, M/M, PTSD, Should make this a series, Spoilers up through Mists of Pandera, Violence, When I figure things out, Will Add More, blatant boob grab of a female character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazzy_Ladynero/pseuds/Tazzy_Ladynero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One more, it is that time of year when Authors post snippets of their work that are in progress and may eventually be finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Author's Note

Welcome to another Evil Author Day! This year, I will be posting some fan fiction but also some Original story snippets that are *very* raw, as in possibly only seen by me as I was typing them out. One or two pieces will have a couple of chapters as I'll be posting multiple snippets of that work since I have the bad habit of jumping around in my stories. Don't worry, those will be labeled as 'Part 1', 'Part 2', etc.

On the original fiction, if any reader has any comments of questions about it, feel free to leave a comment and I'll do my best to get back to you. A couple of things were past NaNoWriMo stories so if they're rather wordy and rambling, that's why. I haven't had a chance to go back and edit them. By posting them here, I hope to kick myself in the seat of the pants and doing just that.


	2. Nuanda Lashtail's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story and memories of Death Knight Nuanda Lashtail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties on the time frame because I was writing this as I was playing through the game.

I knelt in the throne room of the War Chief, my helm lying beside me as my head was bowed, completely baring my neck to the blow of an ax if it was to come. I knew I had taken a huge risk in coming to Ogrimmar with only a letter to provide me with safe passage to meet with the War Chief, but considering how many others had made the trip with me, I felt it a very acceptable risk in my mind to be accepted back into the Horde that I had given my life for once all ready. A rotten apple struck my back, adding to the mess of rotten fruit and spit that already clung to my armor and hair, and I sighed as softly as possible, wanting nothing more at this minute than to just find a place to get clean and hide away for a while as I fully came to terms with what I had been through.

No matter what I had been before, my past had been completely wiped away by what I had been reborn as, what the Litch King Arthas Menethil and his cursed sword, Frostmourn, had created in me by ripping my soul from the peaceful afterlife it had been in. My brothers and sisters in this unnatural rebirth knelt around me, their own armors stained with their own pelting of rotten fruit and spit as many of those gathered in the Throne Room hurled insults at us such as “Monster!” and “Scourge Murderer!” while a few wept openly, telling all who would listen about those they had lost to the Litch King and his unnatural army of the Scourge. We were all waiting as patiently as we could for the War Chief to come to a decision about our fate, and there were different hopes in each heart. The plates of our armor clanked together softly as some shifted in their uncertainty, but I remained motionless, the skill coming to me as naturally as breathing did, even if that later skill was no longer required by my body. I guess some habits were harder to break than others.

“These words, written by a trusted comrade, speak well of you, death knights,” began the War Cheif, and his name suddenly popped into my head. He was Thrall, slave turned gladiator turned leader and protector of his people. I hesitantly lifted my head to find him staring at us with a firm expression, and I swallowed the lump in my throat that I told myself firmly was not my heart. “However, I know how fleeting polite words can be so it will be your actions that will serve you more thoroughly in the future.”

I nearly sagged with relief when Thrall raised his voice to address the rest of those gathered, announcing that all of us were welcomed members of the Horde, and I admit I was a little bit ashamed of the tears that appeared in my eyes, relief at being welcomed back into my Horde warring with the pride and feeling of being home again. There were many angry faces among those that had gathered there, but others were looking at War Chief Thrall to make sure he was not under some enchantment or even that he was sure of his words. Slowly, the people gathered there drifted out of the Throne Room, and I gathered up my helm, climbing to my feet with a small groan as my knees protested the action of supporting me along with the heavy armor I was wearing. There was a feeling that the ache in my knees was something that I had long ago gotten use to, but that memory was currently missing in my mind. Many of my memories from before my death were wiped away in the cold chill that had been Frostmourn's powers as I was yanked back into Azeroth and the land of the living.

Spinning on my heel, my long white braid lashed out around me in a familiar habit, and I started towards the door, hoping to find a place for a hot bath and some privacy when a voice called out to me. I paused and turned to find a grizzled old orc in armor approaching me with a curious look on his face. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but that was a feeling I had gotten about many people and places since my rebirth as a death knight. Even the scars that decorated my skin stirred that feeling of familiarity without providing a story to go with them, which was rather frustrating because it was as if I had my life, one of violence and war, etched on my skin but I could not read the language it was written in.

“You look familiar, girl,” the old orc stated, his eyes running over my form as if he could see through the armor I wore to the scarred green skin that lay underneath. “What is your name?”

“Nuanda is the only name I remember,” I confessed with a slight shrug. “I hope it is mine, but Death insisted on keeping whatever memories I had before Frostmourn stole me from Her grip and the Hall of the Ancestors.” It was the only explanation I had for why I could not remember my life before the freezing cold of Frostmourn's magic filling my veins and forcing my spirit back into my body before enslaving my mind to the Litch King's will. Perhaps some of my memories would return with time, but I was not going to hold out hope for it. After all, only a few memories had returned to any of my brothers and sisters in the Knights of the Ebon Blade as Commander Darion Morgrain had named us as we all worked to clean the Acherus the Ebon Hold of the last of Litch King's undead and stench. The Archerus was to be our sanctuary from the rest of the world that would look on us with fear and hatred, and while there had been a few clashes in the hallways between those that had been Horde and those that had been Alliance, they were few and far between, mostly working off the stress and tension of the upcoming meeting with the specific rulers of our factions.

The orc hummed and nodded in what I hoped was understanding. “I knew a warrior girl named Nuanda Lashtail. She was brave and died a warrior's death.” He chuckled and poked at my chest in different spots. “Took five arrows to the chest before she fell but not before she took out most of a squad of the Scourge skeletons that were baring down on her battle troupe buying them time to get in position to take them out.”

A faint frown crossed my face. “I do not understand. There was a prisoner, Kug Ironjaw, who was part of the Argent Dawn who recognized me, called me Nuanda and talked as if we had grown up together and trained together. But how is that possible if you, a guard here in Ogrimmar, recognize me as well?” I had practically felt the arrows as they dug into my flesh with each tap of the orc's finger against my breastplate.

The orc hummed and nodded before nodding towards the door where the last of my death knight brothers and sisters were walking out into the hot Durotaur sun. “Let me escort you to an inn to get cleaned up, and then we can talk over a good meal and some strong ale.”

I hesitated for a few seconds, unsure if I would be able to keep my composure during such a talk and a meal before deciding that I needed answers more than I wanted isolation at the minute. I nodded my agreement and followed the old orc outside. There were not as many people waiting outside the War Cheif's Hall as I had thought there would be, but in a way, it was a relief so as to not see the glares and hostile glances thrown my way. The old orc escorted me through the dusty streets, not saying anything as we went which I was grateful for since it let me ponder what I knew about the situation of my past and Ironjaw. Ironjaw had been part of the Argent Dawn as he had still been wearing the colors when I had confronted him while under the Litch King's influence, but he had originally been a prisoner of the Scarlet Crusade for some reason. Why would the Scarlet Crusade hold members of the Argent Dawn as prisoners? Did they not both fight against the Scourge? If so, why turn against each other like that?

When we reached an inn, the old orc sent me up to a room to get cleaned up and to change out of my fruit and spit stained armor until I had a chance to clean it. I did not linger long over the water, using it to scrub the worst of the dirt and blood from my skin while doing my best to ignore the line of six runes that were carved into each forearm and that pulsed with each beat of my heart. Two glowed with the same shade of ice blue as my eyes now glowed, the next two almost appeared to be open sores as they pulsed with the red of blood, and the final two were a sickly decayed green color as they rested near my elbows. As if my eyes were not enough of a visual proof of what I had become, these runes were forever carved into my skin by a blade I willingly used on my own flesh to carve the power I now controlled into my skin. Soon after I had carved and forged the runes into the blade I had been given by Instructor Razuvious, I had turned the still hot knife on my arms, carving the runes into my flesh with no outward sign of how much it had hurt to pull that red blade through my skin. No one had said anything to me as other initiates had often done something similar to themselves for reasons only known to them, but for me, I needed a connection to the powers that I now felt flowing through my veins. The first time I had used my new abilities after that time at the runeforge, I found it easier to call upon them even as the new runes in my arms prickled and flared with each bit of power, and soon, I was able to easily tell which rune was being activated with what ability just by how the skin on my arms felt. The frost runes were a bone searing cold, the blood runes felt as if my skin had split open to spill my blood on my flesh, and the unholy runes were a creeping wrongness that always sent a prick of fear up my spine.

Feeling a little bit better and much more clean, I bagged up my saronite armor before dressing in a simple tunic and leggings with soft leather boots on my feet. I had found the items stuffed in the bottom of my back pack and figured they had been either left there for me to find for my down times or they had been the possessions of the last person to own this particular pack. Either way, the items of clothing fit, and I looked much less like one of the newly named death knights except for my eyes, but their unearthly blue glow was impossible to hide. The great sword of the Ebon Blade was slung across my back again in its sheath, and I grabbed the bag of armor along with the cleaning kit. I knew I would not be able to rest and enjoy my meal without getting some of the armor cleaned, and a small thought niggled in my brain that this was a habit from my life and training. I figure I had been a warrior of some sort because the fighting skills came naturally to me while the blade had felt right in my hand, as if it was nothing more than an extension of my arm and body. Even now with the huge blade strapped to my back, I barely noticed the weight at all as I walked down the stairs to the common room, and I looked around, automatically looking for threats and enemies when I saw the old orc sitting in a corner with two bowls of stew in front of him along with two mugs and a plate of bread and cheese. My stomach rumbled at the sight, reminding me of how long it had been since I had last eaten.

It felt like a trip across the Barrens instead of just the common room of the inn with all the eyes turning to stare at me as I walked over to join the old orc at his table, and he didn't look up at me as I set my bag of armor down beside the empty chair, only nudged the bowl of stew and the mug of ale a bit closer to me with his fingers. “Eat and drink. You can not fight or expect to carry that black armor around if your body does not have the fuel to keep you on your feet.”

I grunted in acknowledgment of his words before picking up my spoon and digging into the thick stew. As the first bite slipped past my lips, I was practically assaulted by the richness of the taste of meat, vegetables, and herbs, and I found myself closing my eyes to savor the taste. It was nothing like the bland food the death knights were able to scrounge up on the Acherus to feed us, and part of me knew that this was what food was suppose to taste like, not the bland, dried mushrooms and flat water that was common on the Ebon Hold. All too soon, I had to swallow the current bite in my mouth and I reached for the ale, ignoring the humorous chuckle of my table mate.

“At least you have not had to eat dried mushrooms and flat water with any sort of regularity,” I drawled, still savoring my stew and ale. I knew at that moment that I did not want to eat another mushroom for the rest of my life, no matter how long that was, and the only way to prevent that was to learn how to cook for myself. I would have to ask around to see where I could take some cooking lessons as well as figure out what else I wanted to do to earn a few extra coins for my pocket as a trained profession. I suppose I could look at this opportunity as a new life and a new start since I did not have any of the bad habits or old doubts weighing me down but I knew I would miss what had been my life before my death and my rebirth.

The old orc pointed his spoon at me. “That just means you need to learn how to cook for yourself. Go see Zamja in the Drag. She will get you started in cooking, and you will never go hungry again as long as you have a few of the basics with you.”

“After I get this cleaned and take a bit of time to gather myself,” I agreed, making a mental note of the name, and I wondered what sort of person this Zamja was. By the name, I would guess a type of troll, but sometimes the Darkspear tribe had unusual ingredients in their cooking. I had the vague memory of a troll once willing to eat anything put in front of him, no matter how disgusting or stomach churning. I sighed and managed to focus on my food and drink for now. “So what did you want to talk about?”

The old orc shrugged a shoulder. “To see if you were the Nuanda Lashtail that was such a hell raiser during her time in the army,” he confessed with a grin that showed off his broken tusk. “She managed that feat simply be being her. She proved herself time and time again to the men in the military that wanted to see her fail simply because they thought that she was more suitable for raising children and tending the house.”

Unable to help it, a disgusted snort slipped out of me, and I shook my head, the gold rings in my ears shifting with the motions. “That is the most ridiculous reason I have ever heard,” I drawled. “Personally, I would love it if someone walked up to the Queen of the Dragons or even High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind of the Night Elves and tell them that they could not fight and defend their people and land simply because they were female and better suited to raising children and keeping the house ready for the men.”

My words got a roaring laugh from the old orc as he pounded on the table with a fist, and I found myself grinning back at him. “And that is the attitude and balls that drove every male around you crazy while your actions gained you their respect,” he stated, jabbing a thick finger in my direction. He hit the table again with his fist, causing the dishes and mugs to rattle from the force of the blow. “There is no doubt in my mind that you are indeed Nuanda Lashtail of the Elite Forces.”

“So who are you and why was Kug Ironjaw part of the Argent Dawn? And why would he have been a prisoner of the Scarlet Crusade? Did they not both fight the Scouge so why turn against each other like that?” I blurted the questions out, hoping beyond hope that this old orc did indeed know me from before and could answer a few of the questions that had been plaguing me since I had met him in War Chief Thrall's Throne Room.

“I am Drad Stonefist,” the old orc said with another grin. “Kug Ironjaw was originally one of the War Chief's army, but he claimed that the Ancestors sent him a vision of being more than just another grunt. With permission from War Chief Thrall, he joined the Argent Dawn to fight the Scourge that had been left behind in the Plaguelands after the Litch King had retreated to Northerend.” He sighed and took a long drink of his ale before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The Scarlet Crusade is a group of bigots who believe that only they are fit to fight off the Scourge, and they hate anyone who is not human, taking prisoners in an effort to convert and 'save' the less than fortunate souls of those they deem unworthy.” He snorted and shook his head. “At best guess, the Scarlet idiots decided that those particular members of the Argent Dawn were at risk simply because they were not human or whatever they managed to cook up in their tiny brains and imprisoned them in one of their efforts to 'save' their souls from the Scourge.”

I snorted and shook my head at that idiocy. “The members of the Scarlet Crusade that were left at New Avalon are heading to Northerend with an archbishop and what was left of their forces after the Litch King 's forces got done turning their own ship's cannons against them.” I stared at my stew, trying to figure out how I felt about such actions since I had been one of those death knights on the cannons, blasting away at the Scarlet Crusade members before shrugging a shoulder. It was obvious that they did not value the lives of others the same way the Litch King did not value the lives of those under his command. “I would say that I regret taking their lives, but it is hard when they do not respect the value of life any more than the Litch King does.”

Drad nodded his head. “There are times to regret taking the life of an enemy, but know that if you had not killed them in battle, they would have done their best to capture you, torture you, and then kill you all in the name of the Light and to save your soul,” he stated, his voice firm in his conviction. “It is always a good way to die, in a battle, staring your enemies in the face as their blood drips from your weapons to feed the hungry ground under your feet.”

“To watch the life fade from their eyes and inhale their final breath as it rattles from their lungs,” I murmured as the quote or lesson echoed in my lost memories, too real to be anything but something I either learned in the past or I followed as a personal motto. “That is the mark of a true warrior, one who has been bloodied by battle and who has crushed their enemies beneath their feet.”

A laugh from Drad pulled me out of my thoughts, and I looked at him with a touch of confusion. Was he laughing at what I said or was there another reason behind his laughter? He shook his head as his laughter slowly dwindled off. “Do not let those that sling magic around hear you say that because they will take offense that you do not consider them true warriors despite how they fight.”

“Shamen and those that heal have their own place, but I have no patience for those that enslave demons and shadows or twist the arcane to their will and then claim to be bloodied warriors,” I drawled with a shake of my head. “I may have similar abilities now, but I am still infusing my weapon with those powers as I cut into my enemies and spilling their blood.” I finished my meal, not really tasting the food now, but I knew I was going to need the substance to get me through the rest of the day. Besides, I still had not figured out what to do in my spare time as a hobby and to make a few extra coins. A sudden image popped into my head, of a female troll with green braids rubbing an ointment into her arms that were tired and sore from a day of hard work before she offered me a small bottle of red liquid that I knew was a healing potion to soothe the aches of the body and restore me to full health after healing the small hurts. If I made my own potions and elixirs, then I would not have to pay others to make them for me, and the best hobby to go along with potion making was herbalism so I would learn about the specific plants that were needed in the potions as well as how to best harvest them. Absently, I nodded my head as I made a mental note to check up on the local herbalist and local alchemist to see if I could learn from them or if I had to go elsewhere. Of course, I would have to figure out where I was going to set up either a residence or an alchemical lab because I could not constantly borrow someone else's without that person getting tired of me borrowing their equipment when they could be using it for their own experiments.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Drad asked, and I blinked, looking up to find him watching me as he nursed an obviously new mug of ale.

I shrugged my shoulders and pulled my bag of armor closer before I started pulling out pieces to set on the table as I cleaned them. “Where I was going to find a place to live or at least set up an alchemical lab. I figure I could save some coin and make a bit more if I learned how to make potions and elixirs, but I do not know of any place available right now.”

The old orc nodded with a grin. “I know of a couple of places but let me ask around first. I would hate to make a promise that I could not keep because of one reason or another.”

I nodded in agreement of his words. “I will see about keeping my room here for the next month.” I grinned and started cleaning and polishing one of my gauntlets, doing my best to ignore the blood staining the grooves where metal plates were riveted together. I did not know whose blood stained my armor, whether it was from someone living or one long dead, but the sight of the rust red flakes made my insides tighten in expectation of the suffering and energy that would flow from my victims to soothe the constant need that burned in my veins. I closed my eyes briefly to shove that burning need aside, silently promising myself that I would take some of my frustrated anger out on the rampaging wildlife outside the city gates, because there was always rampaging wildlife. “So, other than five arrows to the chest, how did the Nuanda Lashtail that you know die?”

With a grin, Drad settled in at the table and started talking about how the Nuanda Lashtail he had know had spent her last few days while I worked on my armor, polishing it and cleaning it thoroughly.

@@@

Slowly, I made my way through the Drag, my eyes moving over the shop signs as I continued looking for the herbal person. I had already visited Zamja the other day who had turned out to be a female troll with a very broad knowledge of cooking and a lot of patience with those that had no skill in cooking, and yesterday, it had been a visit to Yelmak an old orc who had started me on a few alchemical lessons in potions. It had taken me some time to convince Yelmak that I did want to learn his alchemy as well as sworn promises that I would never use what I learned from him against another person. I later learned from one of his assistants that Yelmak had lost his entire family to the Scourge. I felt myself highly fortunate that he had been willing to talk to me and listen to me instead of attacking me because I had been part of the Litch King's army.

I stopped in the middle of the Drag and I slowly turned in a circle, looking around at all of the shops here, a small smile on my face as I examined each shop not as a potential enemy, but as a citizen who was just enjoying the sight of the busy stretch helping various people in their day to day lives. It was a pleasant sight to see, knowing that the Litch King had not ruined this simple way of life no matter how hard he had tried. I was still feeling some glares in my back from those that were not willing to accept a death knight as one of their fellow citizens and guardians, but I did not blame them. The memories of the Scourge and what the Litch King had created out of the honored dead themselves in the death knights was still very fresh in many minds, and out of five people, I would say only one did not blame me for what I had become under the cold power of Frostmourn.

Suddenly, a new scent reached my nose among the dust and heat of Durotar, and I blinked in surprise. It was the distinct scent of peacebloom flowers in bloom and a small grin tugged at my lips. It was obviously not coming from anywhere outside of Ogrimmar so it had to be the herbalist in the city. Carefully, I followed my nose through the line of shops until I found myself standing in front of a shop that had wooden boxes filled with dirt from which various plants and herbs were growing out of them. Glancing through the open door, I watched as a troll woman moved between the wooden boxes, tending to the various plants, and I hesitantly moved a bit farther into the shop, trying to not get too close to the plants because I did not know what my presence would do to the green and alive things. I had seen more than one of the Forsaken touch a bush just to watch it wither and die, but I was not sure I now fell into that category or not.

“Are you going to stand there all day or do you have business with Jandi?” inquired the troll woman, turning to glance at me with her green braids sliding over her shoulders. There was a curious look on her face, and I ducked my head slightly as I walked into her hut.

“Um, I wanted to learn about herbs and plants,” I confessed, my voice soft and a touch shy as I looked around the plant shop. There was a bookcase off to one side with many books and scrolls tucked away on it, and my fingers twitched, wanting to open those storehouses of knowledge and absorb as much of their contents as possible.

There was an amused chuckle from the troll woman, Jandi, and I looked at her to find her staring at me in obvious amusement at my apparent shyness. “Well, then you come to the right place. Jandi will teach you everything you need to know about plants and herbs.” I watched as Jandi walked over to the bookcase and pulled out a slender volume wrapped in a green cover before she walked over to me and placed the book in my hands. 'Herbs of Azeroth' was stamped in the leather cover, and I carefully curled my fingers around it, as if afraid to hold it too hard or it would shatter like fragile glass. “That is your copy and research manual for ten copper. If you are interested still.”

I stared at her for a few seconds before almost clumsily juggling to book in my hands as I also tried to dig out my money pouch, trying to get the ten copper she had asked for. After a few minutes, and nearly dropping the precious book a few times in the process, I managed to get the requested ten copper out of my pouch and handed it to her while she continued grinning at my antics. I did not mind as she was willing to teach me a great deal, and I really wanted to learn about the various herbs that I could use in my potions and elixirs. Jandi shoved the coins in a pouch on her hip, not bothering to count them at all, before she motioned me over to a wooden box planted with what I knew to be peaceblooms and a bush with silvery leaves.

“We shall start with the basics, and then move on from there,” Jandi stated, and I nodded, willing to spend as much time as needed on the various plants and in her presence, soaking up what knowledge I could get. I knew it was going to take me a long time before I would be able to even think about any of the herbs and elixirs created in the Outlands despite a few people pushing me to head out there to help the Horde in that shattered land. After all, a person had to learn to walk before they could start running, and that was exactly what I was doing here, learning how to walk with my new skills.

It also gave me a new insight for what I was going to have to do to regain my reputation among the various races of the Horde. If I wanted to be accepted by them again, then I was going to have to start all over at the beginning of my training and work my way through the various tasks again. The tasks would definitely be completed faster this time with my current skill levels, but in a way, it would show the various people in the Horde that I was not afraid to start over at the beginning again and complete tasks that were much more suited to someone who was just starting out and learning their skills than a seasoned warrior. I could start here in Kalimdor, helping the Darkspear Tribe, the orcs, and the taurens, before moving over to the Eastern Kingdoms to help the Forsaken and the blood elves and the few outposts over there that would require assistance. Perhaps once my reputation was reestablished, I would look towards the Dark Portal and the broken lands that lay beyond it.

@@@

Taking a deep breath, I folded the last of my clothes and placed them in the pack that was open on my bedroll. Outside my small bedroom that I shared with my little sister, I could hear my mother softly crying, and I really hoped that I could make amends before I left. But my parents had to understand that this was my decision, and I did not want to be a simple farmer or a farmer's wife for the rest of my life. I wanted to bring glory and honor to the Lashtail family, and I was very tired of only getting calluses from farming tools when I wanted to be one of the warriors in War Chief Thrall's army. I knew I was going to have a rough time trying to get in because females were rarely allowed among the ranks of the warriors, but I was determined and I knew I could do this. Besides, my parents had three older sons who were all married and with children of their own to help out around the farm.

After trying the bag closed, I scooped it up and settled it on my back before taking one last look around my room. It was a simple enough room with two cots and a small chest by each for clothing and small trinkets, but mine was now empty of the sturdy clothing that I thought I was going to need during my training. The long skirts had been left behind in exchange for long tunics and the occasional set of leggings. My boots were leather and very sturdy in good condition, and my body was toned by years of working the hard soil of Durotar under the merciless sun. My long, chestnut hair contrasted nicely with my green skin and it was pulled back in a long, intricate braid that fell to my knees and held together by bands of beaten brass that were currently plain and unmarked. As I gained honor and accomplishments, I could mark my bands with what I had done to let everyone know of my achievements in honor and glory. And my first task lay just outside of my room where my family was gathered to see me off and perhaps even change my mind about starting down this path. Squaring my shoulders, I turned and strolled out of the small room and into the larger room that seemed so much smaller with the various orcs gathered in there. My mother was sitting on a wooden chair, crying into her hands while my oldest brother, Vorn, was patting her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her into stopping her crying. Drorr, my next oldest brother, and Sesh, my 'youngest' brother, were standing next to my father, scowls on their faces as if it was my fault our mother was sobbing as if her heart was broken. Of course, it was my fault, but they did not have to glare at me like that.

“So, you are really going to do this?” demanded Drorr, his voice gruff as he continued to glare at me. Apparently he had been elected as spokesman of the family this time, and I wondered why since he was usually the most short tempered of my brothers. “Just going to go off and attempt the Valley of Trials without a thought about what happens to us or our parents while you are gone?”

I glared at Drorr and folded my arms across my chest. “Yes, I am going to the Valley of Trials and I am going to be doing my best to get into War Chief Thrall's army, but our parents have you three, your wives, your children, and Osula to help them should times get more hard than they are now,” I growled back. “Unless you plan on abandoning them while I am gone?”

It was a challenge to the loud mouth braggart, but I was not going to leave my parents with any uncertainties hanging between us because I would only be distracted during the Valley of Trials which would only lead to my failure and getting washed out of Thrall's army before I had even had a chance to get in there. Drorr snarled and clenched his fists before taking a threatening step towards me, and I planted my feet, shifting into a fighting stance to meet his attack head on. The two of us were always butting heads because we were both stubborn and we both had tempers, but we were usually closer than the others because we did butt heads so often.

“Stop it. Both of you,” ordered my father, his stern voice cutting through the air, and instantly, I backed off, straightening up and looking at him to find his eyes were suspiciously wet. “Nuanda wants to do this, to be something more than a farmer, and honestly, as much as I hate the thought of loosing my baby girl to a lucky arrow or a more skilled opponent, I hate the thought of her wasting away in a life that she does not want that would crush her spirit.”

I blinked back sudden tears in my own eyes at that declaration. Ever since I had told my family that I wanted to be a warrior, the different members of my family had been trying their hardest to persuade me to give up that idea, to settle down with a nice farmer or the son of one of our neighbors, and live out the rest of my life growing plants and children. I could not imagine that sort of life for myself, not when I would rather wrestle a wild boar into submission than remove rocks from a fresh field. My father had been the one who had tried the hardest to keep me from leaving while my mother just seemed to burst into tears any time I tried to mention my future and my dreams, thus leading me to stop mentioning anything about my plans for a good long time.

“I do not want to lose my baby,” wailed my mother, and I sighed, shaking my head as I walked over to crouch down in front of her and I took both of her hands in mine, hoping to get her to look at me again.

“You are not losing me, Mother,” I stated, my voice firm but compassionate for my mother who sniffed and looked at me with reddened eyes. “I am going to be a great warrior and soon, you will be bragging to everyone who will listen about how great of a warrior your daughter is and how much honor she is bringing to the family.”

Reaching up, my mother grabbed my head and stared into my eyes, still sniffling. “You are not allowed to die before me, Nuanda Lashtail! I do not want a messenger to bring me word that my baby has joined the Ancestors until after I am there to greet you at the door many years in the future.”

A small smile curled my lips. “I will do everything within my power to make sure I do not die before you are ready to greet me at the Halls of the Ancestors, Mother,” I assured her, making it as much of a vow as I could while hoping with everything that I was that I would be able to keep that promise. I knew it would only take one lucky shot or someone with more skill than me or even overwhelming odds against me to make sure I that was greeting my Ancestors before my mother could, but I could not dwell on that or the fear of dying would keep me from succeeding. I kissed my mother's forehead before rising to my feet and I turned to face my brothers and my father, ready for their arguments.

Instead of angry looks that I had been receiving, they had softened to mutual acceptance of my decision and possibly some grudging respect for my choice. My three brothers walked forward and hugged me tight enough to make my bones creak before my father handed me a wrapped package, simply stating that it was food for my journey, before he too folded me into a bone creaking hug that left me breathless. I wrapped my arms around my father and did my best to return the bone creaking hug while trying very hard to not start crying right there from the variety of emotions that wanted to bubble up inside me. After an eternity of seconds, my father released me from his tight hug and stepped back, letting me have the freedom I so hoped to get by walking the path of a warrior instead of plodding down the path of the farmer. I looked around at all of my family, gathered here to see me off and I grinned at them. “I'll write as often as I can, and when I return as a member of the War Chief 's army, I'll bring enough alcohol that the neighbors will wonder what the party is about.”

That got some good natured cheers from my brothers as well as some laughter which is what I wanted to leave on, instead of grim looks and tears of sorrow. With a few more slaps on the back from my brothers – which were returned with as much force as I could muster – I stepped out of the house and started on my way to the Valley of Trials.

Taking my time on the road, I was thankful for the stamina I had developed over the years of plowing the fields and planting the crops under the merciless sun. It served me well along the dusty and sun baked road, and the slightly crooked tree branch I had found to use as a walking stick helped me feel a bit better when I started noticing signs of quillboar activity in the area. Quillboars were always nasty, dirty creatures that preferred to steal what they wanted instead of trying to grow their own food or act like rational people and trade for what they wanted instead of just taking it. But that would mean that the quillboars would have to act and think like rational people instead of the almost mindless savages that they were. The quillboars may have been armed with weapons in a more traditional sense, but I could definitely club them and run if I had to since I would not only be out numbered if I came across any of their hunting parties but I would also be out skilled with only my crude staff as a weapon.

The Ancestors must have been watching out for me because I ran into no problems or quillboar hunting parties during my day long trip to the Valley of Trials, pausing once in a while to nibble some of the boar meat and bread my father packed for me or to sip a bit at the skin of water one of my brothers had slipped me before I had left the house. Soon, the large stone entrance to the Valley of Trials loomed before me, and the two guards on each side of the cliff opening glanced at me before snickering behind their hands. I narrowed my eyes, straightened my spine and shoulders, and marched into the Valley of Trials, determined to prove to everyone that a female could be just as good of a fighter as a male could.

Suddenly, there was a flicker of silver and I ducked while automatically bringing up my crooked staff to block the blow that was coming for me, and my stick broke with a crack but the duck carried me out of the way of the sword. Growling softly, I brought one of my now broken pieces of staff around to the attacker's knee with all my strength, and there was a yelp as the knee collapsed from the force of my stick hitting it before I swung the other direction with the second half of my stick to club my attacker up along side the head, knocking them into the dirt. Tense, I looked around for another attack only to find the dozen trainees staring at me as if I was an elemental that had suddenly appeared in their midst and started talking in their language even as I flexed my fingers around the broken staff pieces.

“What is going on here?” demanded a loud voice, and I watched as a grizzled veteran with more scars than skin stalked forward, glaring at everyone. I met his eyes as I slowly straightened from my battle ready crouch and I lowered my broken sticks but continued to hold them ready in case I was attacked again. The grizzled orc's eyes flickered over me before looking down at the orc at my feet who was holding his knee and his head. “Well, Kug Ironjaw? I want an explanation and I want one now!”

Kug slowly got to his feet, babying the injured knee that was looking a little swollen, and I felt a touch guilty at that, but not much. He had swung a sword at me. “I was practicing with Morg as ordered, sir, when this female wandered into the Valley of Trials. Deciding to scare her, I swung my sword at her but only succeeded in breaking her staff before she used the two pieces to take out my knee and then hit me in the head hard enough to knock me down.”

The grizzled orc swung his glare towards me and I stood a bit straighter, my shoulders going back as I met his eyes once again. “And what is your story, girl?”

“I came to the Valley of Trials to join War Chief Thrall's army when I saw a flicker of silver,” I reported, my voice firm as I gave my story. I ignored the snickers from the other males as I continued. “I did not think but reacted, trying to block with my walking stick as I ducked. When my stick broke, I swung at my attacker's knee to bring them down or at least hobble them for a bit before swinging at his head, hoping the pain in his knee would distract him enough that I would not be attacked by his sword a second time.” A small smile curled my lips. “And my name is Nuanda Lashtail.”

“She is as vicious as one of those lashtail raptors,” muttered one of the other recruits, getting a few more snickers before they died under the grizzled orc's glare. That hard glare swung back around to focus on me, and I met it with an equally level stare.

“SO you want to be in the War Chief's army, do you, girl?” growled the grizzled orc before he glanced at the broken sticks in my hands. “I wonder how much damage you would be able to do with a real weapon in your hands instead of broken sticks.” He leveled a finger in my face. “Do not think for a second that I am going to take it easy on you just because you have these.” He reached out and blatantly grabbed one of my breasts, and it took a great deal of effort not to slug him for that. My thoughts must have shown on my face because the grizzled orc laughed and turned to the orc that had attacked me. “Congratulations, Kug Glassjaw, you are now going to be teamed up with the Lashtail Raptor here. Hopefully by the time I am done with you both, you will be a great asset to the War Chief's army.” The grizzled orc jerked his head back towards a cave. “Get Lashtail settled in a spare bunk and then I will put you through your paces to get you caught up.”

Kug saluted the grizzled orc and I quickly mimicked his actions to the best of my abilities before I followed my new partner into the cave. Before entering into the carved stone entrance, I tossed the broken sticks to one side with the rest of the scrap wood that had been gathered there, because I apparently was not going to need them any longer. There were a few orcs bustling around inside the carved tunnels, but none of them gave us much more than a glance as they quickly moved past us on whatever task they were assigned to. I did glance over at Kug as we went, curious to know if he held his new bruises against me but I did not want to bring attention to them or the actions that lead up to Kug getting them. I had to confess that I was a bit proud to have been nicknamed 'Lashtail Raptor' by the grizzled old orc, and I would do everything I could to live up to that viciousness in training and in fighting whatever enemy War Chief Thrall pointed me at.

“I would apologize for the way I took you down, but you swung a sword at me first,” I remarked after several minutes of silence that seemed to stretch between Kug and myself as we entered what looked like a bunk room with hammocks and beds crammed everywhere in the room to allow for as many people to sleep here as possible. Many were already claimed by the rumpled state of the blankets or the packs resting by them, and I moved over to one of the hammocks that was against the wall but apparently unclaimed still.

“And how did you manage to take me down so easily?” demanded Kug, and I turned to find him staring at me with suspicion in his eyes and his arms folded across his chest. There was a beautiful bruise darkening his jaw, matching the one on his knee, and I could not help but grin at him.

“I have three older brothers and grew up on a farm,” I replied with a slight shrug as I dropped my pack on the empty hammock. “The second thing you learn is that knees are vulnerable to blows, be they from a broken staff or from a boar's hoof.”

“And the first thing you learn?” inquired Kug, a brow raised, but there was a light of interest in his eyes, replacing the slight look of hostility that had been lurking there since I had taken him down before the rest of the training class.

I smirked. “To not let anything or anyone stop you in your goal as well as to use your head as well as your muscles. Otherwise, you are just pushing against a rock that is more than likely mostly buried in the field and requires an entire team of kodo to budge.” I raised a challenging brow at him. “And I often out stubborn the kodos on the farm.”

He chuckled and rubbed his sore jaw, wincing slightly as his fingers came into contact with the bruise on the skin. “And twice as vicious as the raptors themselves,” he agreed. “You are going to go far in the War Chief's army.”

“You use the head on your head more than the one between your legs and you will go just as far,” I countered, and he roared with laughter, reaching out to smack me hard on the back. It may have been his intention to send me to the ground, but instead, I managed to remain on my feet with only a slight stagger under the blow.

“Come on, Raptor. Time to show everyone what you are made out of,” Kug stated, turning to leave the room and I smirked as I followed him back out into the training field. A potential enemy turned into an ally with only a bit of bruised pride to show for it. Not a bad way to start my journey to becoming one of War Chief Thrall's soldiers.

@@@

Frowning, I stared around me at the Ghostlands, trying hard to ignore the slight itch under my skin that happened any time I got near where the Scourge had been. The huge Dead Scar that marred this land like an open, festering wound was swarming with undead Scourge that had been left behind when the Litch King had departed the Eversong Woods, leaving destruction and Scourge undead in his wake like the forgotten flower petals at a wedding. Bones poked out of the Dead Scar's tainted and corrupted soil, like some strange flower accenting the dead soil in some twisted mimicry of plants that would never grow there again. I had to confess that it had been a surprise to find that the blood elves had not only welcomed my help, but welcomed that offered help without any hostilities on their part. Of course, with many of their people stretched thin on the various battle fronts, it was a wonder that there were enough blood elves left behind to handle the day to day running of the various businesses.

Deathfire, my Acherus death charger, pawed at the ground, snorting slightly in its anxiousness to move or do something but stand there, and I reached down to stroke its neck below the armor that was strapped to it in an effort to calm the horse like creature. It took an effort to ignore the crunch of bone under Deathfire's glowing white and blue hoof, but I managed not to flinch as I nudged it out into the Dead Scar, heading towards Tranquillium to help with the problems there. If there was some way of helping clean up the Ghostlands, then perhaps the land would recover its former glory and beauty.

 

 

@@@

Green garland, colorful ornaments and large bows seemed to drip from every possible hanging place in Ogrimmar, and I felt like smashing every single bit of greenery and color. It was that time of year again, apparently. the Feast of Winter's Veil, when family and friends came together to exchange gifts and good wishes, but all it did was make me feel even more alone than I already was. It was not as if I could just ride up to the Lashtail farms and put myself back into their lives, not after they have already mourned my death. I had watched them from a distance a few times once I had remembered them, but I dare not go down to introduce myself. My father had aged decades since the last time I had seen him, and I did not know if it had been my death or the work on the farm that had aged him. One of the things I had been doing was taking careful stock in what tools and supplies were needed on the farm so that I might be able to replace them when the time was right, because what was the point of having money if I could not spend it on those that I cared about even if they never knew that I was the one that bought them for the farm.

I kept a careful list that I took with me to the various shops in Ogrimmar, ordering new plows to replace the ones that had been repaired too many times to really work well any more, various bags of seeds to be planted in the spring for the fall harvest, a young male boar and some young female boars all the right age for breeding along with barrels of grain for the kodos that remained on the farm, a new wagon hooked up to a young yet broken kodo to carry everything to the farm which could then be used to plow the fields later, and finally bolts of sturdy and durable fabric for new clothes for everyone, including a bolt or two of silk for the ladies in the family. For each of my relatives, I managed to find them something special as individual presents, ranging from a new hunting bow to paying off any credit the family had with the stores. I was not worried that any of the shop keepers would recognize me as I did my shopping since I wore my armor all the time, and my plate mail helm had a face shield that left only my eyes uncovered. If they were ever questioned, at most the shop keepers could say that a female orc death knight had purchased the various items. It might make them wonder and speculate, but I was not going to return to their lives as anything more than a watcher from the outside. I could not put them through the pain of knowing the creature I had been reborn as because it was not fair to them. A few times, I nearly ran into one of my brothers at the shops, but between their own preoccupied minds and my all concealing armor, I continued to remain unrecognized which brought me the feeling of relief and isolation, even though I knew the loneliness was entirely my own doing.

I had Lielyn, the blood elf warlock, pen a very nice letter to my family to go along with the supplies that I dictated to her, knowing that my own hand writing was too distinct and recognizable to risk writing out the letter myself. Lielyn threw me suspicious glances during the entire time, but she folded and sealed the letter with a golden wax that bore the stamp of a pair of crossed axes, something I had picked up on a whim a few months back in Silvermoon along with the wax. I knew I would probably never be snobbish enough to use it again, but it would be a small link to the family that I had all but severed all ties with.

Finally, the day came, and I went around to the various stores with my wagon, picking up my various purchases and notes that credit had been paid in full, carefully packing the later in a pouch that was placed on the driver's seat next to me. To the back of the cart, I tied the reigns for Direfang, my armored wolf, that I would use to return to Ogrimmar instead of summoning my death charger on the farm. It would be surprising enough to have a death knight in full armor bringing a wagon full of supplies to the farm that I did not need to startle them further with needing to summon my death charger. With a clank of armored plates, I climbed into the driver's seat and gathered up the reins before lightly snapping them against the kodo's flank. With a snort and a toss of his head, he started down the road at a steady pace, and I settled in for the half day's ride to the farm. The heat of Durotar and the sun in the sky did not bother me in my full plate mail armor, and I was very thankful for that so I did not have to stop to put my armor on due to the heat before I arrived at my parent's farm because that would only take time and offer a chance for me to be discovered by someone. If I was going to pull this off, I had to do it as smoothly and as quickly as possible, get there, drop off the wagon and letter plus pouch of paid notes, and then leave again before any of them might suspect that I was their dead sister or daughter.

As I drove the kodo down the road, I watched the landscape around me, everything familiar yet strange at the same time. I had traveled this road many times both before and after my death, the later once I had regained enough memories to realize just who I was and where I came from, and yet, each time it looked a little different. Sometimes, it was something as simple as a scrub brush that had been uprooted by a wild boar or a rock that had fallen loose from a clifside to almost slide into the road, but other times, it was something more noticeable, such as a bunch of scrub bushes uprooted and piled next to a fallen boulder in an attempt at making an ambush spot. Rolling my eyes, I pulled the kodo to a stop and I slid out of the driver's seat, being careful to approach the apparent ambush spot in case it was a diversion. If it was, then Direfang would be more than happy to tear the so called thieves apart for attempting to steal the items out of the wagon. Instead of finding an ambush in the scrub bushes, I found signs of a previous ambush and bloodstains. Chuckling, I scattered the scrub bushes and returned to the wagon, my sword returning to its place on my back. I scooped up the reins again, gave the leather a light snap of my hands, and I was once more moving to the Lashtail farm.

With each step the kodo took during the last little bit of the trip from the main road down the turn off to the Lashtail farm itself, I felt my stomach knotting tighter and tighter as I went. I prayed to the Ancestors that I would be able to do this without giving myself away, because my mortal family deserved a happy Winter's Veil which could not happen if they knew I was reborn as a death knight. Better to let them believe I had died with honor and glory and was in the embrace of the Ancestors than to let them know that I was wandering around as one of the cursed death knights. I took a deep breath and managed to settle my nerves as the farm appeared before me, and a small smile curled my lips behind the concealing face plate as I watched the family milling around on their way to lunch. One of the children spotted the wagon and gave a shout, causing everyone else to come out of the house to see what was going on, and I felt a wave of relief when I saw both of my parents emerge from the door. During my trips to watch the farm I had not seen her at all, and I was worried that she had passed on to the Ancestors. By the time I pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the house, all of my brothers, their wives and children, and my younger sister who had grown up nicely, were gathered around my parents, watching me with wary expressions on their faces.

“How may we help you, warrior?” asked my father, stepping forward as I climbed down from the wagon. Instead of replying, I placed the reins in his hands followed by the pouch of paid notes and then the letter was put on top. Saluting him and the rest of the family, I turned and headed back to where Direfang was still tied to the wagon only to find Vorn standing in my way, a curious look on his face.

“It has been you, watching the farm and barely being missed in the shops,” he stated, his voice full of curiosity and conviction. “But why would you do such a thing for us?”

I shook my head, unwilling to speak before pointing back to our father and the letter in his hands. While Vorn was looking that way, I moved around him and I untied Direfang from the wagon, leading the armored wolf back down the road. I swung on the armored wolf's back and urged him into a light jog, glancing back briefly to find everyone gathered around my father who was staring at something in his hands, and a tear slipped out of my eye as I returned my attention to the road ahead of me. They would be taken care of for another year, and I felt a bit better about my deception since I was able to help them while giving them some treats that they normally wold not get a chance to indulge in.

I only wish I had been brave enough to give them back their daughter that was taken from them.

When I returned to Ogrimmar, I found the inn I usually stayed at since I was never around long enough to seriously think about purchasing a house and I had put all of my alchemical supplies and beakers in my room on the Ebon Hold, rented a room for the week to get me through the actual Feast of Winter's Veil, ordered a jug of something strong to drink and a hearty meal that I carried up to my room. Putting the meal and jug of alcohol on the small table near the window, I then stripped out of my armor, carefully putting it aside before unbraiding my long tail of hair, and I wandered into the bathing chamber with the food and drink before starting up a bath. Now that the anxiety of collecting and delivering the presents to the Lashtail farm was slowly fading, I could rest and relax before going out to find another person to help after the Winter's Veil celebrating was done. I quickly scrubbed the dust from my skin before running a clean bath of hot water and sliding in to just soak for a while, my hair spreading out around me in the water as I arranged the tray of food and the jug within reaching range. Picking up the jug, I turned towards the Lashtail farm and raised the jug slightly in salute.

“Happy Winter's Veil,” I murmured before taking a long drink. This was probably the closest I was going to get to a family dinner, in an inn room by myself with food I could get at any time of the year and something strong enough to straighten a troll's tusks in a jug, but at least it was something.

After several minutes, my bathwater cooled off, and I dried off, sliding into comfortable clothes that meant I did not have to leave my room at all if I did not want to, and this week, I would get the chance to fully go over my armor, repairing the small bits that needed repairing and separating out the pieces that needed a more professional touch. The empty tray was put on the table to be taken downstairs in a few minutes, and I brushed out my hair, letting it dry in the air before I braided it again, the gold bands encircling the now white strands once more. I left the jug on the table and I carried the tray downstairs to the bar keeper before escaping back up to my room before anyone could pull me into their little party of well wishers because it was all too much for me at the moment. Maybe later this week, when I had a lot more alcohol in my stomach and not enough common sense in my head, I would join one of the happy little parties gathered around various tables and the fire pits to trade stories, past experiences, and the jugs of strong alcohol that always made friends and later regrets during the morning after.

Returning to my room, I locked the door behind me and I claimed my seat at the table by the window, curling up in the chair to watch people scurry around on the street below the inn with the jug of alcohol resting on the table beside me. Occasionally, I reached over and took a drink from the jug, my eyes never leaving the sights of the people swarming below, sometimes by themselves but more often with other people, and all of them burdened by boxes and packages festivally decorated with colorful paper and ribbon. The sight of those packages brought back memories of unwrapping presents with my own name scribbled on them, rough housing with my brothers as we all tried to get the best spot next to the pile of presents with our father laughing as he watched us and our mother scolding us to be careful and not break anything. I shifted to the window seat, curling up in the corner with the jug cradled in my arms as I rested my head against the window, still watching the people below as I blinked back tears for everything that I lost to five arrows and Frostmourn's cold magic.

I am not sure when I dozed off, but I knew when I woke up it was to the sound of something scraping at the lock of the door to my room. With a soft nearly silent snarl, I uncurled from the window seat, my hand curling around the hilt of my sword as the long skirt of my dress brushed my ankles. I was not ready for a fight as unarmored as I was, but I was going to make whomever this was trying to break into my room regret their actions for the rest of their very short life. I reached the door just as the final click sounded, indicating that the door was no longer locked, and it cautiously opened a crack. From that simple action, I knew someone on the other side was still holding onto the doorknob, and I reached out, easily holding my sword in one hand, and I jerked the door open, pulling whomever was holding onto it into the room. From the yelp and the thump on the floor, I knew the person had been over balanced and was now prone on the floor. A quick flick of my hand and the dinner knife that I had forgotten to take down with the rest of my meal sank into the floor with a quivering of metal and a very solid thunk that was only muffled by the fabric of whatever clothes my attackers were wearing.

Unfortunately, while I was distracted by the intruder on the floor, the one that had picked the lock managed to vanish from my sights long enough to sneak up behind me and lay a good solid blow to my head. I grunted as I fell to one knee from the blow, my vision swimming as I lost the grip on my sword, and there were suddenly hands on me, restraining me and I snarled, fighting against the grips despite the ringing in my ears and the dizziness in my head from the blow. I was going to make sure the one that hit me really regretted that action for as long as I let them live.

“Damn it, Raptor! Settle down! We are not the enemy!” shouted a very familiar male voice over the sounds of my struggles and curses, and I froze at the familiar nickname. Very few people ever called me 'Raptor' outside of the training group I had in the Valley of Trials, and most of them were dead now, fallen to the Scourge next to me but lucky enough to remain dead while I had been pulled from the Halls of the Ancestors. I looked up at my attackers only to snarl as I realized that it was my brothers standing around me and over me, holding my arms to prevent me from fighting back, and I twisted out of their grips before spinning back to the window, collecting my sword along the way while doing my best to ignore how my hands were starting to shake. What were they doing here? How did they even know I was here? Were my parents waiting for me downstairs along with my little sister? This was not fair! Not after I had worked so hard to remain anonymous to the family as well as stay unknown for the presents.

“You should not be here,” I managed to force out through a throat tight with unshed tears and old fears. “It is Winter's Veil. You should be home with your families and loved ones.”

“Well, we were but then we realized that one of our loved ones was missing,” Sesh remarked with a casual indifference that managed to get a snort out of me, but I still did not turn to look at them. It was easier to send them away if I did not have to look at them. “You are a very difficult woman to track, Nuanda Lashtail.”

I sighed and my shoulders slumped as it felt like the weight of the world had suddenly came crashing down on me and I did not know how much longer I could be strong enough to resist the idea of heading back to the farm with them. “The Nuanda Lashtail that you knew died to the arrows of the Scourge while protecting her world from the Litch King. I am just something that was pulled out of the Halls of the Ancestors that happens to look like her and brought back to some sort of mockery of life by Frostmourn.” I shook my head and straightened my shoulders. “It is best if you return to your farm and forget you have seen me.”

“unfortunately, we are under orders to bring you back to the farm one way or another,” Drorr stated as I curled back up in the window, snagging the jug of alcohol and shaking it to see if there was anything left in it. I was rewarded with the slight slosh of liquid and I easily tipped it back, swallowing another mouthful.

 

 

 

I stared at the large brown orc in front of me, my jaw hanging open as he crumpled the attack plans and carelessly threw them aside with the sort of listlessness that came from those who no longer cared about anything. I had been delighted and somewhat excited to hear that the Famous Horde Hero, Gromm Hellscream, had a son and that son was living in Garadar in the Nagrand providene, but while this large orc, one Garrosh Hellscream by name, may have inherited his father's size, he sure did not inherit his heroic father's courage. I could understand that Garrosh was slightly depressed because the Greatmother Geyah was dying of old age, but that did not mean that he should have given up on all of the Mag'har orcs! Or even given up on himself!

Snarling, I wheeled on a heel and stormed off before I did something I was going to regret like punch Garrosh Hellscream in the face, no matter how satisfying it may have been to me to do so, it would have been poor relations to do such a thing. Maybe there were some Warmaul Ogre or some Boulderfist Ogres I could take my frustrations at Garrosh Hellscream out on, just to keep myself from punching Hellscream until he had some common sense beat into his thick skull. The runes carved into my arms prickled with what could almost be described as excitement at my bloodthirsty thoughts, and I stopped to take a deep breath and calm down. Hellscream, despite having the appearance of a grown warrior and seasoned fighter, was a little boy whose spiritual elder was slowly dying, and he was powerless to stop it. I could understand that sort of mentality, but what I could not understand is why Hellscream had given up on the rest of the mag'har, Nagrand, and Outlands.

 

 

In a way, it was a bit of a relief to watch the Mighty Wind, the goblin powered dirgible, slide into the docking area of the Warsong Hold in the Borean Tundra, and I gathered up the reigns attached to my armored gray timber wolf's riding tack before I lead him off the dirgible. Various people were already starting to swarm the air ship as boxes and barrels of supplies from Ogrimmar were unloaded while the rest of the passengers also got off the air ship. I caught more than one envious glance in my direction from the various grunts, and I knew it was because I was free to turn around and step right back on the Mighty wind and ride it back to Durotar instead of staying here where the bitterly cold air threatened to steal a person's breath. Yet, despite that freedom, I knew that I could not go back to Kalimdor just yet because the War Chief needed my help up here in the frozen north to defeat the Litch King before he managed to succeed in his goal of turning every living person into a member of his undead army of the Scourge. The Knights of the Ebon Blade knew better than anyone how seductively sweet the Litch King's words and will could be, and I knew that knowledge was going to be part of my biggest test in this frozen land, to resist the call I could almost hear that wanted me to bend my knee to the Litch King again and to swear allegiance to him once more if he would only take me back into his services.

A shiver ran through me at that thought that had nothing to do with the cold that plucked at my exposed skin, and I squared my shoulders, a new determination filling me. I was *not* going to be that monster's slave again as he had showed his true feelings towards the death knights in his services before, willing to sacrifice all of us to lure out High Lord Tyrrion Foundring of the Argent Dawn. Never again would I be *anyone's* pawn, and if I discovered that someone had manipulated me into the position of a pawn again, I would make that person pay dearly.

After getting my armored timber wolf, Direfang, settled in the stables, I asked around and found where there were rooms for rent, and I found the inn keeper, rather easily paying for a room for a few days. The room itself was deep in the Warsong hold and it was big enough for a cot and a few torches set in the walls, and I was told under no certain terms that a bath cost extra. That got a chuckle out of me as I dropped my bags next to the bed, and I told the inn keeper that the extra charge was understood and that I would probably pay for a bath later. Once the inn keeper left the room, I pulled out my regular armor from the bag and I started going over each piece, checking leather straps and metal buckles while cleaning off any stains from Outlands that wanted to linger on the metal. It was strange how many people I had seen in my travels always wearing the same armor from sunrise to sunrise, never taking it off until it was practically falling off of them with the need of repairs, but I kept a second set of armor for long periods of traveling by air ship or water ship that was a bit lighter than my normal armor but it was just as durable in a fight. This second suit of plate mail armor also let me sleep more easily while wearing it as well as gave me the chance to clean my normal, heavier armor without completely being completely vulnerable in the case of a surprise attack by anyone and anything not friendly to the traveling ship that I happen to be on.

I took my time getting settled into the room, even taking a few minutes to wipe some of the travel dust from my skin with a damp cloth, but I knew I would have to find some place a *lot* warmer than the Borean Tundra for a fully relaxing and very hot bath. As I started strapping on my plate mail armor after taking my traveling plate mail armor off, I realized that a strange feeling was starting to creep over me and I paused in my actions as I tried to figure out what the feeling was. It seemed to be a tugging urging me to the east and the north, to come home where I was wanted, and a low snarl slipped out of me, echoing in my chest. Apparently the Litch King or his cursed blade, Frostmourn, was still trying to get me on his side, but my resolve was strong and I was not going to bend my knee to that monster ever again. Tightening the last few straps on my plate mail armor, I grabbed my traveling packs and my sword, strapping the large two handed blade across my back before heading out with my packs being tied around my waist as I went to find the person I had been told to contact in the Warsong Hold to start helping the Horde's efforts against the Litch King.

After a few wrong turns in the rat warren that was the Warsong Hold, I finally found my way to what looked like a war room with a large map that looked like the Borean Tundra made out of animal hides spread out across the floor with various small figurines that I figured were probably troop movements placed across it. I was about to go over and introduce myself to the two armored orcs that were standing near the map covered floor when the larger one started stomping across the floor, kicking the various figurines out of the way while issuing orders, and I felt like groaning as I realized just who was in charge up here. It was no wonder that War Chief Thrall was sending people up to the Frozen Continent if the loud mouth Garrosh Hellscream was in charge of the forces up here. It almost seemed like he had no concept of tactics at all, and that he could just bellow out orders and the events would just jump to follow his commands. I wanted to tell him that he could not just kick over a few figurines on a map and he would instantly have have a supply line to other bases because the forces of the Litch King did not care about Hellscream's demands. The large brown orc from Nagrand could bellow and throw a temper tantrum as much as he wanted but it would not change the end result of the Litch King's casual indifference to Hellscream's childish attitude.

Seeing a break in Hellscream's bellowing, I straightened my shoulders and I walked into the room, determined to get this meeting over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible, if only because I wanted to speak to a native herbalist up here about the native plants up here in this frozen land. Absently, I wondered if there was an alchemist around who could teach me about a few of the various elixirs and potions made from the local plants. Who knew what could be helpful up here during this campaign against the Litch King? As soon as I stepped into the room, Garrosh Hellscream whirled on me, glaring at me with burning gold eyes as if I had committed some mortal sin by just being there and breathing the same air as he was, and I managed to keep the defiance I felt for him off my face and out of my body language. I had this feeling that Hellscream had two modes when dealing with people around him; depressed or egotistical.

“It is about time you showed up, death knight,” spat Hellscream, his large hands flexing as if he was trying to not reach out and throttle me. If he did try such a move, he would find out just how powerful I could be when I was pushed to a wall. “The other veterans who came aboard the Mighty Wind are already out and helping us win this war effort.”

“My apologies, Hellscream, but I thought it was more prudent to secure a room to store my belongings and to orient myself to this land before approaching you to offer my assistance,” I said, doing my best to be as diplomatic as possible just to keep Hellscream from dragging this meeting out any more than it had to be.

Hellscream snorted at my words before brushing them aside with a flick of his hand. “There are Nerubians that have taken over the stone quarry outside our gates. Deal with them.”

Before I could say anything, Hellscream turned back to the map on the floor, and I was very proud of myself for keeping the sneer off my face before I turned and I calmly walked out of the room, even though I was steaming inside at his callus treatment of me.

 

 

The city shook, throwing me out of my hammock in the Filthy Animal, the inn I had been renting a room at in the floating, magical city of Dalaran, high above the Crystalsong Forest, and I yelped as I hit the stone floor hard enough to dent my armor if I had been wearing it. The shaking only lasted for a few minutes, but it was enough to concern me as Dalaran was a floating city and there should not be anything on the ground that should be able to move it. Grabbing my armor, I managed to quickly pull it on, hearing voices raised in alarm as I did so, and I started praying to the Ancestors that whatever was happening would not bring the city down because it was a long way down to the floor of the Crystalsong Forest and there was a lot of weight up here being held up by the Violet Citadel's magic. Uda the Beast's two wolves started howling in surprise and a touch of fear as I staggered my way down to the large common room where the serving girls were pushing themselves to their feet among the turned over tables and the scattered food, drink and dishes. Uda the Beast was kneeling next to her two wolves, speaking to them in low tones as she tried to soothe their fear and uncertainty, and I was about to ask what had happened when I noticed the confusion and uncertainty on the various faces around me.

No one here knew what happened any more than I did, so if I wanted answers, I would have to go out of the Filthy Animal and find them for myself.

Staggering outside as I tried to clear the ringing from my ears and out of my head, I looked around, hoping to find one of the purple clad mages of the Violet Citadel but they often kept to the other parts of Dalaran where they were not in conflict with the Sunreaver Sanctuary or the Silver Enclave depending on their race of origin, but I did pause in the center of the Sunreaver Sanctuary, my eyes widening at the sight of the bare walls on the other side of the fountain that was there. The bare walls that had held portals to the major cities in Azeroth only yesterday. Whatever had happened had destroyed the portals to the other cities, but what could possibly do such a thing to that sort of magic? There was only one place I knew of to find the answers that I was seeking for what had happened, and it was definitely not here in Dalaran. At best guess, something large had happened to the magic in Azeroth which had caused the floating city to shake like it had been caught in an earthquake, and the only place I was going to find my answers for what had caused the floating city to tremble like it had been caught in an earthquake was by heading to either Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdom and then to one of the major cities for the latest news.

Besides, it would also give me a chance to thaw out from being in the frozen north for so long.

Closing my eyes briefly in concentration, I tapped into the Unholy runes carved in my arms and it was only long familiarity with the prickle of decaying things that kept me from shivering outright as I gestured in the correct way to summon the swirling arched mass of purple and dark pink fog that was topped with a horned skull, and with a small sigh of relief when the death gate opened before me, I stepped through into the fog that seemed to stretch on for an eternity when a second step brought me out onto the the flight balcony of the Acherus, the Ebon Hold that so many death knights called home these days. Instead of instantly going inside and asking for answers to what had happened, I drifted over to the edge of the balcony, near the ghoul flight master, and I looked down on the Eastern Plague Lands that the Ebon Hold was hovering so high above. Far below me, I could make out the spreading green that was the land being healed by the Argent Crusade members around Light's Hope Chapel, and I smiled at the gleaming white wall that was spread around the area to provide protection against the Scourge and undead that still wandered the stricken lands. Straining my eyes a bit farther out, I could almost make out what looked like pillars of light stabbing up into the almost permanently crimson sky, and I felt a bit more relief spread through me. I had heard rumors that the Argent Crusade was trying to place watch towers around the Eastern Plaguelands to help battle some of the more troublesome spots, and if those pillars were the protections on those watch towers, then it appeared that the Argent Crusade had a very good line of defense against the almost mindless undead Scourge. At least something was going right in Azeroth if those towers were undisturbed, and I turned to head further into the Ebon Hold for the rest of my answers.

The Ebon Hold was surprisingly deserted from the usual death knights that normally would hurry and bustle around inside its imposing architecture or those just hanging out because they were bored or wanted to talk to their friends who were part of the other side of the battle lines. After several minutes, I ran into a human death knight who was curled up in a corner, her arms around her knees as she shook hard enough to rattle her plate armor. I knelt down next to her, pulling a bottle of Silvermoon port out of my bag and I uncorked it before wrapping her fingers around the neck. “What happened, Sister?”

The human woman blinked at the bottle in her hand before taking a huge swig of it before I could warn her about the alcoholic contents. It was not that strong of a beverage, not when compared to some, but she still coughed at the burn, nearly dropping the bottle., but after a few minutes, she looked up at me with fear still on her face. “Deathwing,” she whispered, as if afraid the Black Aspect would suddenly rear up in the very room we were in. “He is back. He laid waste to some of the land in Kalimdor before perching on the gates of Stormwind like a malevolent gargoyle.” She shook her head, a small sob caught in her throat. “Deathwing is back for vengeance!”

“It is worse than that,” stated a voice with the accent of the Darkspear tribe, and I looked up as a male troll crouched down next to us. The human woman was openly crying now, silent tears running down her face as she drank more of the Silvermoon port directly from the bottle. The troll looked at me, his glowing blue eyes troubled. “The Barrens was split, Thousand Needles flooded, and Stranglethorn Vale has been damaged as well, making even more resources scarce. This is going to push Garrosh closer to all out war with the Alliance while the Banshee Queen attacks Gilneas. One of the rumors coming from the Undercity is that the wall of Gilneas is open due to the earthquakes from Deathwing's reappearance.”

I was about to say something when the troll's words caught my full attention. “Wait. Why would this push Garrosh closer to all out war with the Alliance? What about Thrall?” Apparently I was very far behind in the news of what was happening just by hanging out in Dalaran and trying to work on cleaning up the Scourge in the IceCrown.

The troll looked at me in confusion. “Thrall announced that Garrosh Hellscream is the new leader of the Horde as Thrall went to the Eathen Ring to find out why the elements were going crazy as well as to train his shamanistic abilities.” The troll shook his head and reached out to snag the bottle of Silvermoon port from the human woman and took a long drink from it. “Vol'Jin has already moved the Darkspear Tribe back to the Echoing Isles in protest of Garrosh's leadership because Garrosh was challenged by Cairne Bloodhoof and Garrosh killed the Tauren High Chief. Rumor has it that Garrosh's blade was poisoned by another to take out Cairne. His son, Baine Bloodhoof, is now High Chieftan of the Taurens.”

I snorted, shaking my head in surprise and a bit of disgust for everything that had happened. “The excitement you miss when cleaning up the Scourge in the frozen north,” I drawled with a soft sigh. I nodded to the bottle. “Go ahead and keep it as thanks for the information. I'd better get to Ogrimmar and see what the pushy bastard wants of the people as well as see where I can do the most good.”

The troll leveled a thick finger at me. “Be careful with that attitude, mon. Many are loyal to Garrosh for what he has managed to do in Northerend against the Litch King and they see a hero of the people instead of an egotistical and bloodthirsty person that others see standing there.”

“Thank you for the advice, Brother,” I said, my voice serious as I saluted him and I looked at the human woman. “Be well, Sister.” The human woman gave me a shaky smile as I straightened to my full height and left the two of them in the room. Just what I needed, Garrosh Hellscream in charge of the Horde, and the in fighting had already started. Part of me had to wonder what in the Nine Hells was Thrall thinking when he named Garrosh Hellscream his successor as War Chief, but I was not privileged enough to know what the former War Chief had been informed of when he had made that decision. Perhaps Garrosh had changed, but considering he was challenged by High Chieftan Cairn Bloodhoof, who was one of the most level headed Taurens I had known, and then Garrosh had killed him with a poisoned weapon, even unknowingly, meant to me that Garrosh had not changed from the whining, arrogant little boy that I had first met out in Nagrand in the Outlands who was whining and given up all hope because the Greatmother was dying. Of old age.

It only took me a few minutes to secure a ride from the ghoul flight master on the back of the skeletal griffins that the Knights of the Ebon Blade used as flying mounts before I was flying off towards the Undercity. I would be able to catch a dirigible there to Ogrimmar. I was not sure how exactly I was going to do in Ogrimmar, but I knew I had to get there, just to find out what sort of damage Deathwing had done to Kalimdor and what Garrosh Hellscream was doing to the Horde.

 

 

On board the air war ship, Hellscream's Fist, I found a good corner to get away from everyone while still being able to watch the passing scenery as I went over my armor and weapon. General Nazgrim was storming around the deck, bellowing orders to the various crew members and throwing his weight around, and I shook my head, wondering again what I was doing on this ship with such a blood thirsty maniac. Thinking back on the scene from Garrosh Hellscream's throne room, I had to wonder how long Garrosh was going to be in charge with as power hungry as he had gotten, and I drew the stone down my blade again, my actions automatic as I worked the nicks out of the edge. He had bellowed and snarled at General Nazgrim not for letting the Alliance flag ship get away but for allowing it to find this strange, fog shrouded continent before the Horde had. As if anyone had known there was a continent there. The few Pandarians that were aboard the air ship were excited, hoping and wishing that this strange and mysterious continent was their lost ancestral home, and for their sake, I hoped it was.

“We'll find this land or die trying!” snarled General Nazgrim and I looked up to find him ordering one of the soldiers, Sargent Gorrok, back to their post. Shaking my head, I looked out into the fog shrouded air, wondering if we were just flying in circles or if we were actually getting anywhere, when I saw a darker shadow in the fog. I stood up, slinging my sword on my back and stared out at where I had seen that darker shadow, wondering if it had been a trick of my eyes for wanting something out there or if it had been reality.

Just as the fog thinned enough to show large rounded mountains, a goblin crew member cried “Land Ho!” and people started rushing towards the railings, each hoping to get a glimpse of the strange continent first. I wrapped my hand around a mast rope and leaned farther out, trying to see if there was a place to land or even another way safely through the large rocks. The Pandarians were excitedly whispering among themselves as they pointed and speculated before one gave a cry of delight, pointing to something that I could not see at the moment.

“Alliance ship! Portside!” bellowed General Nazgrim, and I raced over towards the port side, easily spotting the brilliant blue sails trimmed in gold on the azure water. The fog was thinning at an almost alarming rate now, as if some greater power had reached down and brushed it aside to allow both the water ship and the air ship to land on this strange land. I frowned as I stared at the Alliance ship before I started looking around for the other ships in the fleet. Where were they? Surely there had to be more of the Alliance navy in the water because there was never just one ship, unless they had sent along air support. My eyes flickered to the sky, trying to see if any of the Alliance air ships were visible or even coming out of hiding when the Horde air ship was rocked by a violent hit, and I grunted as I fell backwards on the deck, rolling away from the edge of the air ship as fast as I could because more blows were striking the air ship. Getting to my feet at that point was useless even as I heard the air ship's cannons explode with their own ammunition, returning fire on the single ship.

The ship stopped rocking for a few minuters and I gathered my arms and legs under me, attempting to stand up and see if there was a way I could help when another explosion rocked the air ship violently, and I fell head first into a steel covered doorway, blacking out to the sound of a loud ringing from my plate mail helm.

 

With the gunk from those strange black and white wispy creatures slowly drying on my sword, I looked around what could only be a temple on this strange continent. The being that had flown down on the back of a strange, onyx serpent had called those creatures 'sha' and he had said that they were the manifestation of negative energy which made sense because they had only appeared after General Nazgrim had started panicking about what War Chief Garrosh Hellscream was going to do to him for not realizing that the Alliance had an air base already. There was a peacefullness in this area that was seeped into the very stones of the building as well as every blade of grass, but that peacefullness had been shattered by the fighting between the Alliance and the Horde. Looking around again at the bodies that lay strewn about the stone structure and the courtyard, I felt a weight I did not like settle on my shoulders as I realized just who was responsible for the destruction of so many lives and the peace that this place radiated. Oh, I was not fully to blame because I was not the only one who had lifted a sword against a perceved enemy on this land, but I had no way of justifying my actions in adding to the killing that was done here.

Sighing, I flicked as much of the gunk from my blade as possible before sheathing it across my back again as I looked around, this time trying to figure out what to do next. General Nazgrim was certain that there were others who had survived the destruction of the air ship and the crash plus he wanted me to put pressure on a nearby village to get them to join and support the Horde while it was on the continent. Did I really want to pressure someone into joining the Horde when even I was not sure I wanted to continue fighting for a blood thirsty and power mad War Chief? I hummed as a thought occurred to me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt the stirrings of hope. I could do what General Nazgrim wanted, but that did not mean I had to do it to the fullest extent of my abilities. It would not be that hard to find any survivors because they did not deserve to die out here because General Nazgrim was now a blind follower to War Chief Garrosh Hellscream, but since I was not one of those who blindly followed orders, I would go, talk to the elder of the nearby village and tell them everything that was going on, letting them chose for themselves if they wished to side with the Horde or just briefly offer shelter to the injured. I had no illusions that General Nazgrim would not send others to pressure the elders into siding with the Horde, but if I was able to get there first and educate the elder about the comflict between the Horde and the Alliance along with the powers above me, then the elders would be able to make an informed deciscion on what they wanted to do in regards to their people and their future.

With a firm nod and a definite path before me, I started into the strange and beautiful forest, ready to start my journey through this peaceful and strange land. Perhaps I could find a way to settle down here, away from the Horde and War Chief Garrosh Hellscream. Maybe even start a small farm that would let me just enjoy the peace of this place for the rest of my life. A small smile tugged at my lips at the thought of settling into a life that I had fought against for so long, but here, in this rich emerald land, I could not find myself protesting against such a life where people would not look at me strangely simply because my eyes glowed with the blue of Frostmourn's magic but because I was alien to this land itself. I would have to see what sort of people lived here and do my best to increase my reputation in a positive way with them before seeing about settling down on a farm.

 

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut as I stared at the so-called young Alliance 'soldier' that was standing there, unconcerned at the fact that he was not only in hostile territory but also at the business end of Shokia's gun with Kiryn calmly sitting nearby next to the hozen Riko, those two giving each other sweet looks. By the Ancestors, what was Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind doing here on Panderia? When General Nazgrim had told Hellscream that the Horde navy had chased the Alliance flagship to an unknown continent, I had honestly believed that it had just been a high ranking official on board that ship. The thought that one of the royal family was on board had never crossed my mind. As I listened to the scouting reports from the three surviving memebers of the scouting party, I could only stare at Prince Anduin, praying to any Ancestor that would listen that no one recognized him. I had because Death Knight Commander Thassarian had a picture of the young prince in his possession that he had been showing off to his friend, Death Knight Commander Koltira Deathweaver, when all of the Knights of the Ebon Blade were working on cleaning up and making the Archaeron, our floating fortress that we had liberated from the Litch King Arthas, into a base of operations as well as a refuge from the word outside that did not understand us. Thassarian had been bragging about how grown up Prince Anduin was now, and how mature the young prince had become.

As Shokia wrapped up her report, I watched as General Nazgrim approached our little group, and it was with a sinking feeling that I saw recognition appear on his face as he stared at the young prince. By the Void, could not something go right for me today?

 

Quietly, I made my way towards the crude hozen cage holding Prince Anduin, and I hoped that I was not too late in helping him. War with the Alliance was already a reality thanks to Garrosh Hellscream's thirst for blood and vengeance, but I shuddered in fear to think what would happen if King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind heard that his only son was not only captured by Horde soldiers but also killed either through deliberate actions or accidental mishandling of the prince.

The prince looked up as I approached the crude structure of vines and sticks, and I winced at the sight of the bruise spreading across his cheek from Shokia's blow. If she had hit him a bit harder or a bit higher, Prince Anduin may not have woken up from such a blow. No matter how sturdy they looked, humans, especially those as slender as Prince Anduin, were very fragile when compared to the sturdy build of orcs. My fingers dipped into a pouch at my waist, and I pulled out a small bottle filled with red liquid. There were times when being an alchemist with a bent for herbalism came in handy, and the plants on this lost continent were absolutely facinating with their various properties. It was going to be a joy to explore this land for those herbs and possible recipes alone. The fact that there was already a civilization here to talk to about alchemy, potions, and herbs was just a bonus in my mind, and I was also looking forward to trying out some local delicasies. From the girth I had seen so far on the natives, they enjoyed their food as much as their brew.

Bending over with a slight grunt, I placed the red bottle inside the bars before straightening and backing up to just beyond grabbing range for the prince's peace of mind before I sat down, cross legged with a clank of shifting plate mail armor. I reached up and removed my helm and its concelaing face place, letting the long white braid of hair fall down my back as I shifted slightly on the hard ground. Within a few minutes, my gauntlets were placed next to my helm and I reached up to rub at my scalp, easing a bit of the familiar ache there that came from having my hair pulled back in a tight braid all the time. I nodded to the small bottle that remained untouched even as the young prince was eyeing it cautiously and took a bit of a chance. Prince Anduin had spoken Orcish when confronted by General Nazgrim and also seemed to understand it as well, which would be helpful for this talk.

“Go ahead. It is a healing potion made with the native herbs. The smell is rather potent but it is also very effective.” I grinned around my tusks. “I would suggest holding your nose as you drink it.”

“Then why are you giving it to me?” asked the prince in his passable Orcish, a wary look on his young face. He had a thick accent, but his words were understandable which was all that was needed, and I watched as Prince Anduin leaned forward to pick up the bottle, slowly turning it over in his hands.

I softly sighed as I switched to the Common language used by the races of the Alliance. All of the Death Knights knew that language because Litch King had wanted to make sure that his orders were understood no matter who the Death Knight had been originally and he was a bit too lazy to worry about learning all of the languages available, so he made sure all of the Death Knights could speak Common and understand it. “Let me explain a few things before putting a scenario before you, Your Highness. Just so that way you can see things from my point of view.”

Prince Anduin nodded, his curiosity clear on his face, and I shifted to lean my elbows on my crossed legs, meeting his gaze squarely with my own glowing blue eyes. “You are currently the guest of Garrosh Hellscream on this lost continent, and as soon as it can be arranged, General Nazgrim will escort you back to Ogrimmar with as many guards and high security as he can managed to keep you from escaping as well as to discourage any rescue attempt. There may also be at times someone who will question you to see how much information about the Alliance that you know and what they may be able to get out of you through any technique that they think of.”

The blood drained out of his face as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Garrosh belives that his guests are to remain alive only as long as they are useful to him and his goals. Once your usefullness is at an end, your head will be decorating a pike for all to see, unless he decides to keep you as a pet slave for his own amusement.”

“But why? I have done nothing against him,” Prince Anduin asked, and I could see that he was obviously trying to justify such treatment in his mind.

“You are the son of his enemy. For him, that is enough,” I stated, my voice soft as my heart went out to this young man. How sheltered he must have been growing up to not understand the darkness in the worlds, and in a way, I envied him that naivety. “Now, let us just speculate that someone got careless with you on the way back to Ogrimmar, and you do not survive the trip. What do you suppose would happen when news of your death at the hands of a Horde grunt reached your father's ears?”

A frown passed over that young face as Prince Anduin thought about my words for several minutes. “He would demand the extinction of the entire Orc race as well as those that are part of the Horde,” he finally said, a dawning horror on his face before he looked at me, desperately. “I can not let that happen. Too many innocent people would be caught in his drive for revenge.”

I grinned slightly and barely nodded my head, knowing I was under watch by General Nazgrim if not Shokia as both were not too likely to trust me no matter how helpful I had been up to this point. After all, I had only gotten us allies on this lost continent, even if I thought the hozen were more likely to fling their bodily waste at any of their enemies instead of use decent weapons, like spears and swords. “I want you to know that I personally bear no ill will against the Alliance or their allies,” I remarked, nodding towards the jinyu that were caged around the crude fighting pit to be later used for the hozen's own entertainment. “I fought and died for a Horde I believed in before the Litch King pulled me away from the Halls of the Ancestors to roam this world again.” I sighed and shook my head. “I do not know what this new Horde under the War Chief Garrosh Hellscream is, but I will not let innocent people suffer if I can help it. The people of Pandaria do not deserve to be pulled into the conflict between the Horde and the Alliance just because it is a new battle ground, but I am afraid that there is no stopping the fighting on this beautiful land now. Blood has already been spilled and the Sha have started appearing in the land again.”

Humming, I tilted my head slightly as I looked at Prince Anduin. “When I was talking to one of the local Pandarians, he asked me why we had brought our fighting here. Was there nothing left worth fighting for in our homes? How could I explain to him that the War Chief was a blood thirsty maniac that would sacrifice all in his goal to not only wipe out the Alliance but to gain as much power as he possibly could. Lorewalker Cho made another good point when I met with him and he explained the history of this land. The mogu ruled through fear as long as no one was courageous enough to stand up to them, but soon, the Pandarians found the courage to stand up to the mogu and overthrow their rule. It is better to rule through kindness and compassion than it is to rule through fear.”

I pointed a green finger at him. “Kindness and compassion will gain you respect from those under your command, but fear will always have you looking for the knife in the dark, waiting to slip between your ribs to remove the fear that you inspire in others. Then the one who removed the source of the fear will be hailed a hero or a martyr, depending on if the one who inspired the fear did not have those loyal to him kill the one who killed him.”

Prince Anduin nodded slowly, a very thoughtful look on his young face. “I believe I see what you are saying, Knight, and I thank you for the wisdom. Is there anything I may offer you in return?”

I chuckled softly and picked up my gauntlets. “If you have a bit of information that is already known that I can tell General Nazgrim to make him think that I was doing exactly what I said I was, which was slowly gaining your confidence until you told me something of value, that will help keep him at a distance and off my back.”

A thoughtful look crossed the young prince's face as he thought about what I had said before he nodded. “All right. Tell him that SI:7 is here looking for me, undoubtedly starting where my ship ran aground. I am sure that you have already come across some of the members already.”

I grinned and nodded. “Thank you, Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind. May the Ancestors watch over you,” I said, pulling my gauntlets on again before picking up my helm. I slipped a small, sharp rock out of my pouch under the guise of straightening my boots, and I casually flicked it towards the cage, making sure that it landed inside the bars with a nearly silent thud. Those sharp blue eyes glanced at the rock before raising a brow at me, and I winked at him before settling my helm on my head, my braid once more tucked up under the metal hat again. The prince was a smart one, and I am sure he would either use the rock to free himself from the cage he was in or he would use it at a later time to escape. “If you get the chance, there is a Pandarian gentleman named Lorewalker Cho whose knowledge of this land and their people is invaluable to those that seek out knowledge and understanding instead of violence and death.” I bowed slightly to the prince, a fist over my heart in the traditional salute of the Orcs. “Throm-Ka, Prince Anduine Wrynn. May the Ancestors guide you.”

The prince rose to his feet, and returned my salute and slight bow before I turned on a heel and left the cages, hoping that Prince Anduin would get the chance to escape before he fell to whatever plan that Garrosh Hellscream and General Nazgrim had for the young man. He was a brave soul who did not deserve to be held in their hands, not when there was a bright future ahead of him. I was barely out of sight of the cages before General Nazgrim, Shokia, and Kyrin surrounded me, expectant looks on their faces.

“He is starting to believe I am an ally of his and sympathetic to his plight,” I began, knowing that there needed to be a careful balance of truth among the lies to make it all the more believable. “The young prince is not that anxious to meet War Chief Hellscream in person, having heard the usual Alliance propaganda and lies about him, and I was able to play on that a bit, confirming his fears that the War Chief is a blood thirsty individual.”

General Nazgrim chuckled at my words and shook his head. “Not too far from the truth in all honestly. Did he give you any information that can be used against the Alliance?”

I nodded. “He said that SI:7 is here hunting for him, starting where his ship ran aground , but I have the feeling that they do not know exactly where he is at the moment.”

A solid hand came down on my shoulder, nearly denting my armor, as General Nazgrim laughed in delight. “Good work, Nuanda! First you gain us these hozen as allies and now you are getting information out of the prisoner. You are an invaluable companion to have, and it will be a shame to see you leave our company.”

For a second, a cold chill ran down my spine. Where was I going and why? I hoped it was not to try and 'convince' another village to join the Horde, because these people were more likely to shut their doors to us permanently than join in the fighting. General Nazgrim held out a scroll that had been tightly wrapped and sealed with a bit of wax and a ribbon. “This came for you while you were talking with the prisoner from that strange fat bear you have been talking to.”

I nearly sighed in relief as I took the scroll from General Nazgrim's hand and shoved it into another pouch at my hip. I would read over Loremaster Cho's letter when I was alone to make a solid deciscion on my next move. I knew that the sooner I was able to distance myself from General Nazgrim and the Horde, the better off I would be for it. Shokia and General Nazgrim slapped me on the back again before walking away, and I turned to escape only to find Kyrin staring at me with unreadable eyes. Instead of saying anything, I simply stared back, my blue glowing eyes meeting her unnatural gold eyes. Before my rebirth at the Litch King's hands and sword, I had found the stare of the Forsaken unnerving and more than a little creepy, but now, after staring down Arthas Menethil and Baron Rivendare, that dead golden gaze was about as intimidating as a kitten's glare.

“You have guts,” Kyrin finally said after several silent minutes stretched out between us. “To not only stare me down but also what you told Shokia and Nazgrim.”

“Oh?” I drawled, stretching the word out as far as possible, making it seem as if I was doubting what she was saying. By the Void, what did she know and how dangerous was it to me?

Kyrin nodded, her eyes crinkling in what I had to take was amusement. “Do not get me wrong. Nazgrim could not find an Alliance battle cruiser with a map and detailed directions. He believes what you told him because he wants to and it is the most likely situation in that thick head of his. But that pack of lies was impressive. Just enough truth to be believable without making it seem too far fetched.” She moved a bit closer, her voice dropping. “But I wonder how much in favor you will be if it were to come out that you were helping the dear Prince Anduin Wrynn to make plans to escape the Horde's hospitality?”

“About as much in favor as you would be should the Dark Lady discover that one of her shademasters had the audacity to fall in love, let alone fall in love with a hozen,” I returned, my voice just as soft, and she jerked back as if struck. “Such information should be considered seriously, and if possible, forgotten entirely, do you not agree, Shademaster Kyrin?”

She nodded, and I inclined my head. “A pleasure speaking with you again, Shademaster Kyrin,” I remarked before turning and leaving the area. My footsteps carried me towards the hozen that had been trained in how to handle the windriders General Nazgrim had brought along for air support between any outposts that he managed to set up here. As I went, I unrolled the scroll and a small smile curled my lips behind my faceplate as I realized that it was a simple missive from Loremaster Cho, inviting me to meet with him at a small town called Dawn's Blossom. That sounded like a much more agreeable situation than the one I currently found myself in.

Besides, the Pandarians were not only much more polite than the hozen, they had better manners and smelled a lot better than the stinking money people.

 

I stared at the little Pandarian girl in disbelief. Her name was An Windfur and she claimed that there was a witch in the forest that turned people into jade statues. Many of her friends had barely escaped by climbing trees and could I help get them down again and to safety? This must have been the person that turned Sargent Gorrok into a statue according to Riko's scouting report back at the hozen village, but was it possible that he was still alive in his green prison? An Windfur was staring up at me with hopeful gray eyes, and I sighed as I nodded in agreement.

“I will rescue your friends, but let me also look around town to see if there is anyone else that would like some help out that way,” I requested, hoping that there was someone which would let me work on my reputation with these kind folk. She nodded and grinned at me before skipping off, making me wonder just what sort of situation I had managed to get myself into.

Within a quarter of an hour, I had a few more chores to do for various Pandarians. A retired monk named Tsu the Ironbelly wanted some large spiders killed in a section of the forest in what was known as the Silkwood, and a young Pandarian in love called Lo Wanderbrew needed some pristine light silk to impress the lady of his dreams, who just happens to belong to the family that his father does not like. Just what I was hoping to avoid during this strange exploration of this beautiful hidden land.

Family Drama.

Well, the children were my first priority even if they were simply victims of rumors and a nasty prank instead of an actual 'witch', and I really hoped that they would learn from this experience to not bother those that were different just because the person was older and had different ways than what they were use to. I snorted and shook my head at that thought, vaguely remembering some of my own childhood with pranks and taunts from the other children just because I was a girl who wanted to be a warrior instead of a farmer's wife like many of the other girls. Absently, I wondered where those children were today and if they had managed to achieve the goals that they had decided on for themselves at such a young age.

 

Sargent Gorrok was already roaring and glaring around for the Jade Witch as I wiped my sword clean, my summoned ghest bouncing along in the wake of my footsteps as I approached him. Sargent Gorrok turned, his fists clenched as he prepared to swing at me,s till itching for a fight, but I raised my face plate to stare at him. “That would be a bad idea, Sargent Gorrok,” I drawled, using a tone of voice that had gotten more than one grunt to listen to me in the past even if they only saw 'female' before 'warrior'. “From the scouting report given by Hozen Riko, Shademaster Kyrin, and Shokia, it was thought that you might have been killed by the owner of this hut, the Widow Greenpaw who was also known to the children in the area as the Jade Witch. I am pleased that this was not the truth. General Nazgrim will need all the help he can get until reinforcements arrive.”

“Death Knight Lashtail,” Sargent Gorrok said, his eyes widening with recognition as he drew himself upright, his fist going over his heart in a salute to me, and I sheathed my sword on my back to return the salute even as the children laughed and played around us. Someone was going to have to suggest that they head back to Dawn's Blossom soon before any of the wildlife in the area decided on a cub dinner. “How long have I been out? What is going on? What is the status of the hozen alliance with the Horde?”

“You have been missing in action for two weeks, frozen as a jade statue, and the hozen alliance is a reality,” I stated, resting my hands on my hips with a slight clank of armor. That was the only downside to wearing plate mail armor, it made noise whenever a person shifted just a little bit. “You will have to report to General Nazgrim for a further update on what is required of you as I am working on befriending more locals to see if there is anyone else sympathetic to the Horde's ambitions and if they are willing to work with the Horde instead of with the Alliance. I would suggest you report back to Grookin Hill and General Nazgrim for further orders.”

Sargent Gorrok saluted me again and was about to turn away when he stopped, his eyes looking over my shoulder. “What should I tell the General about this place and its occupant?”

I turned to examine the hut carefully as I thought about my words. General Nazgrim may think that I had disposed of a potential ally in these lands, but the truth was that the Widow Greenpaw was not interested in any conflict or fighting or anything but her own selfish desires which was collecting any child that was foolish enough to approach her hut and turn them into a jade statue for her garden. The fact that Sargent Gorrok was not immune to the Widow Greenpaw's selfish desires spoke a great deal about her mental state. “The Widow Greenpaw did not care about any conflict or alliance, and the fact that she turned you into a jade statue proves this. Her death was unfortunate, but there was no way to secure her loyalty to our side and cause against the Alliance as she had one goal in mind aside from being left alone and that was turning children into jade statues along with anyone else that bothered her. She would have been a threat that would have had to be eliminated sooner or later before she moved against our forces, and we do not have the reinforcements to spare to her mad desires.”

That got a nod of understanding from the Sargent and he saluted me again before turning and loping off through the Jade Forest in the direction of Grookin Hill and General Nazgrim. I sighed and lowered my face place again as I looked around at the children who were still dancing and playing around the hut when I noticed that one of the adult statues was now a flesh and blood adult Pandarian again. Walking over, I tried to be as nonthreatening as possible to suggest to the Pandarian that the children be herded back to Dawn's Blossom where their parents could claim them again as I had no idea how long most of them had been missing, and if the children's parents were anything like the other parents I knew, they would be delighted to have their cubs back before nearly grounding them for life for the scare they had been put through.

Besides, I had some spiders to kill and some silk to gather before I ended up back at Dawn's Blossom.

 

The Arboretum was a beautiful grotto of pink petaled trees everywhere, and I felt as if even sneezing in this beautiful area would send a cascade of pink petals falling to the ground, rendering the trees themselves bare of their beauty. I found my steps were growing more careful, almost as if I was growing to respect the very land I stepped on, and it was also a very interesting feeling to have. The Pandarians that were gathered beneath the clouds of pink trees were true artisans who were practicing their craft, hoping to bring out even more beauty than what they were surrounded by. I watched as one used what looked like a large stinger to spread his ink across the fine paper, thin lines sweeping with the grace of a bird's wing or a wave stepping onto the shore. Another was reaching out to catch the petals as they fell, adding them to a bowl where he was crushing the pink petals into a dark ink before dipping his brush into the ink and spreading it across his own paper, adding a rich hue that had not been there before. I confess that I had forgotten all about Lo Wanderbrew until one of the Inkmasters as I learned they were called, came up to ask what I was doing there and had I come to help with small chores around the Arboretum?

“Syra Goldendraft is at the Shrine of the Dawn,' he remarked, his voice grave as he stroked his braided beard. “Check there for her and Lo Wanderbrew. They are old enough to make their own choices, but their families only see them as children who must be brought to heed.” He winked at me before pointing towards the Shrine of the Dawn. “I believe they have gone to seek the blessing of the Patriarchs, something that not even their families can object to if they receive them for their wedding vows.”

I sighed and shook my head. Perfect, just what I did not want to get involved in, more family drama, but I owed it to Toyu to locate the two Pandarians in love if only because Lo Wanderbrew's father was looking for the young man. Hopefully, I would be able to find the two of them, explain what trouble they were in according to their fathers, and then be on my way, but I did doubt that it would be quite so easy. After all, nothing in this world was that easy, and if it was, then this land would still be undiscovered and Garrosh would not be War Chief of the Horde.

Concentraiting, I summoned Deathfire from the Shadow Realm that he dwelt in when I was not using him, and he burst into existence with a hollow horse's scream and a flash of shadows. I did not want to use the obvious proof of what I was, because it seemed as if the ice blue hooves left corruption and death with each step and that was most definitely not something I wanted to stain this beautiful land with. However, I had no way of transporting the rest of my stable to Pandaria just yet, and no one here trusted me enough to sell me the local rides. I was just going to have to bide my time and hope that the death charger's corruption was not so bad that the land could not recover quickly from it. Grabbing the pommel of the saddle, I swung up into the leather and sardonite saddle, my feet automatically finding the stirrups with an uncomfortable familiarity, and I gathered up the reins in my gauntlet hands, the bits of leather sliding between metal clad fingers just as easily. Nudging Deathfire with my knees as I pulled on the reins to turn him, I was about to head off to the Shrine of the Dawn and hopefully find Syra Goldendraft and Lo Wanderbrew, when a long sinewy shape in the air caught my eye. I paused, watching to see if I could spot it again, when it flickered between the pink flowers decorating the trees.

My first thought was that it was a cloud serpent similar to those found in the Barrens, but as I watched it, I realized that it was no more a cloud serpent that I was familiar with than I was a night elf ranger. It swirled and danced through the sky as graceful as any Draenei dancing girl, and I knew I had to find out where it was heading or where it had come from. The love stricken Pandarian children could wait, because I did not know when I was going to find this creature again. Me heels dug into Deathfire's sides as I slapped the reins against his neck, and he screamed before bolting in the direction I had him pointed at, after the strange air serpent. Grinning, I bent low over his neck as we raced down the paths that cut through the land, easily clinging to the death charger's back as his hooves pounded against the ground. I did not have to worry about Deathfire growing tired or stumbling from exhaustion no matter how hard I pushed him or how long I rode him as he was just as much alive as I was. No living horse could survive the Shadow Realm, which was a good thing since I barely survived my encounter with the Dark Rider of Acherus in my quest to tame a death charger of my own.

After a couple of hours, I had to slow Deathfire to a walk as I could only stare at the area before me. We were on the edge of the Arboretum, and the pink flower covered trees had given way to more familiar green trees that I had seen everywhere in the Jade Forest so far, but there was a large dirt clearing where many more of those strange flying serpents were milling around. Carefully, not knowing how they would react to myself or Deathfire, I approached them, my eyes filled with wonder as I watched their scaled forms twist and float in the air. There was something about these creatures that reminded me of the dragons I was most familiar with, but none of the dragons I knew had what looked like a mane of fur around their heads nor long whiskers that could almost be mistaken for a mustache that floated around their faces. They also were not as slender as a python with arms and legs that looked the same size with obviously fully articulated claws and no wings to show how they flew. There was a large saddle on all of them, showing that they were mounts of some sort, but how I could acquire one of those gorgeous beings, I did not have a clue.

Finally managing to tear my eyes away, I looked around for someone to talk to, but all of the Pandarians I saw were busy either tending to the serpentine dragons or chatting with each other, and I was very hesitant to interrupt them just to soothe my curiosity. Not wanting to poke around too much and be thought of as rude, I carefully directed Deathfire around the edge of the various structures that had been put up around the dirt ground, and I looked at them with a critical eye, coming to the conclusion that this was a camp of some sort and a race track, I mentally added, noticing the very familiar black and white checkered flags in the distance. Apparently some things were universal no matter how different the cultures were. It was a pleasant surprise to find a kite master off to one side, and a quick talk with him had him marking his location on my map as well as informing me that I would easily be able to catch a ride back to Dawn's Blossom, making the almost four hour ride in an hour.

“Who are these people?” I finally asked after dismissing Deathfire back into the Shadow Realm. I nodded towards the serpentine dragons as well to include them in my question and the kite master chuckled.

“They are part of the Order of the Cloud Serpents,” he said, gesturing around us with a sweep of his arm. “They gather here with their trained cloud serpents to test their skills against each other in races and other feats of skill and intellect.” He eyed me thoughtfully before shaking his head. “I do not believe any of them will talk to you just yet. You should adventure around Pandaria and increase your skills as well as your reputation here before you seek to join their order. You do not look strong enough to handle a cloud serpent just yet, and they will not trust you with one of their beloved cloud serpents until such a time that you look capable of raising and caring for one.”

I nodded at that, thankful that it was not because I was a death knight and forever marked by Litch King Arthas Menethil's evil that was keeping me away from the beautifully graceful cloud serpents but because I did not look strong enough to handle one of those ethereal beings. I was definitely going to need to know more about this land and its people before I could make such a deciscion about the cloud serpents, and perhaps even joining the Order of the Cloud Serpents to help raise and train those slender dragons. Paying the kite master some coin, I quickly headed back to Dawn's Blossom and the two star-crossed lovers that I had originally been sent to locate for Toyu.

 

A small thread of excitement spread through me at the thought of learning more about the Pandarian's way of life as well as their unique fighting style. High Elder Cloudfall had agreed to let me train at the Tian Monastary with the other young Pandarians. He would not let me start training immediately as he wanted me to think and reflect upon my choice, telling me to come back that evening to speak with him if I was still interested in learning. I did not doubt for a moment that I would not be returning to speak with him that evening. I was nearly dancing with joy as I left the building, and Lin Tenderpaw smiled in understanding at my actions as she had heard everything.

“You should bring a gift to the banquet that is going to be held in honor of the new trainees,” Lin advised, her voice dropping slightly as she talked to me. I blinked in surprise at that information. Was it common for guests to bring gifts to their hosts? I would have to remember that. “The oranges to the south of the temple are ripe right now. They would make a perfect gift.” I had to admit that I had my doubts about such a... plain gift in the sight of all the wonder that surrounded me, but I knew when I should listen to the voice of experience. Besides, Lin Tenderpaw was the local here and I could admit that I was the ignorant barbarian in such an exotic land, which was a confession that I hated to make at the time, but it was the only one that actually fit.

Going to the tree to the south of the Tien Monastary, I was surprised to find more of those strange sprites, this time in gold and green, flitting around the tree and collecting the very ripe oranges that had fallen from the tree. With a grin, I raced around the tree, trying to collect enough oranges to make a nice gift before those strange sprites took all of them. Once or twice, I thought the oranges were going to burst in my hand with as ripe as they were, but soon I had enough oranges for a gift. The banquet was going in full swing by the time I returned, and as I entered the banquet ground, I found my jaw dropping slightly in disbelief. Not only were there Pandarians sitting at the tables, but hozen and jinyu as well. Without any fights starting.

After being introduced to several of the important people at the Monastary, including the fighting instructors, High Elder Cloudfall invited me to share the meal and lift more than one mug of ale in celebration of the start of the training. I confess that I probably enjoyed the ale as much as the meal because the next thing I knew, I was waking up on the ground in between the banquet tables. With a groan for the hangover that also greeted me in the morning, I wondered if it was too late to change my mind about this training. After all, if the Pandarians celebrated everything with a brew and a banquet, I was going to be in trouble, death knigh metabolism or not, because I was fast learning that Pandarians enjoyed two things to great excess: great food and great brew. Staggering to my feet, I managed to find a pitcher of cool water that was also clear of any bugs or leaves from the nearby trees and washed my mouth out before pouring the rest over my head once I had removed my helm to finish waking up. Once I could think without the tiny goblin that wanted to beat at my brain with a vengeance, I went in search of the various trainers as well as the groundskeeper to find out my chores of the day.

Several hours later, I groaned as I fell face first into the small cot that had been assigned to me, my armor rattling and digging into various bits of my already abused flesh. I could not remember a time when I had been hurt so badly and I ached in places I never knew I could ache before. If I was not sparring against the other trainees, I was fighting the tigers and greenwood sprites in the Waxwood or fetching boiling kettles of stew for all the trainees to eat from. At least I knew that the food more than made up for the harsh treament I had been put through. Tomorrow proved to be even more brutal as I had been passed along in training to another instructor. The rumor was that she was best to instruct others in one on many combat, mostly by putting the trainee in a ring and sending as many of her students at the trainee at one time. If the trainee survived without getting beaten to a pulp, then they passed. A bit brutal, but considering that the first instructor did not want me to hold back as I challenged and attacked various other trainees, and who had the same order to be just as brutal with me, I suppose I could not argue too hard for their methods.

 

“All Right, maggots, listen up,” growled the voice of our training master, Logrul Steeltusk, as he marched up and down in front of us. We had been woken up in our beds and almost literally dragged inot the training yard before the sun had even cleared the horizon. Now, the two dozen warriors stood in lines as Logrul Steeltusk eyed each of us as if we were a side of boar at the butchers and he was trying to figure out the best cut of meat to get from us.

“You are here because someone somewhere in their infinite wisdom decided that you showed some of the skill and enough brains to be one of the Elite soldiers in our War Chief's army,” Logrul Steeltusk continued, and I got the feeling that he was doubting the common sense of those who had put us forward for this honor. I was more than prepared to let my scars and my skills do my talking for me.

“You will be given a trial period of one week,” stated our training master, his hands tucked behind his back. “At the end of that week, you will be allowed to slink back to your previous positions that you held before coming here if you can not cut the work. After that week, the training will triple in intensity until you either make it into the ranks of the Elite soldiers or you fall over dead. Those will be your only options on how you leave my tender care after your trial period, on you feet as one of the Elite or in your finest clothing on the funeral pyre.”

There were some nervous mutterings and glances thrown around me, but I continued staring straight ahead, too well disciplined to do anything else, including give in to a case of nerves. I had already been warned by my superior officer that this was not going to be an easy task to make it into the Elite forces, but he believed I had the skills and the backbone necessary to do what it took to make it through the meat grinder. He also warned me that it was not uncommon for those that tried to stick out the training to end up dead because their bodies simply gave out on them, and it would not be any reflection on my honor or his if I decided to bow out of the training after the trial period. I knew I would have to wait and see what the week of the trial period had in store for me before I made my deciscion. I would love nothing more than to be counted as one of the Elite, but if it was too much for me, then I knew I would have to bow out at the end to resume my position as a scout in the War Chief's army. There was no dishonor in knowing your limits, because those that tried too hard for too much were the ones who fell the farthest when they were unable to make their goals.

“Oh, and one more thing since I noticed some of you have boobs instead of balls,” drawled Logrul Steeltusk with a nasty smirk at us, and I knew I was one of those included in this next statement. The downside to always having to fight for my position in the ranks of the military. “Do not think you will get an easy pass just because you are female. If anything, your training will be harder to make sure that you earn your place among the ranks of the Elite.”

A small sigh slipped out of me and I wondered who had decided that being a female meant that I had to be ridden harder and trained more thoroughly than a male. Was it easy to forget who exactly was at home, defending the farms and the children when the men were off fighting? Just because females carried the children and gave birth to them did not mean that we were somehow weaker than our men, even though we were smaller in stature. Sure, a person was more likely to find a female in the ranks of the healers, druids and shamen, but I personally would love it if someone walked up to Alexstrasza the Life Binder and Queen of the Red Dragon Flight and tell her that she had to work twice as hard as the red dragon males just because she was female and had to prove herself. It would be interesting to see if the person in question managed to get away with his hide in tact or if she just decided to roast him where he stood for such a foolish idea.

“Do you have a problem with my decision, grunt?” barked Logrul Steeltusk in my face, and I wanted to flinch away from his breath as the strong scent of boar meat and ale attacked my nose.

“Sir, no sir!” I shouted back with as much respect as I could muster as it became clear to me that he must have heard my sigh and thought it meant something different than it actually had. I had no trouble with his decision to push the females under his command harder than the males. I was just getting tired of having to prove myself over and over again to the men around me as it seemed like whenever I went somewhere new, I had to prove myself again to the men either under my command or in my new squad or even to my new superiors. It was getting very tiresome, and I hoped a day would come where it would no longer be necessary, where the women fighters who had proved their mettle by a certain spot were automatically included in the respect that the males got just by being male.

It was a very tired group that finally stumbled almost literally into the mess hall when the sun was high, and I forced myself to move through the line to get my food and drink before staggering towards a table and partially collapsing in the seat. Logrul Steeltusk had lived up to his promise of putting us through the ringer this morning by forcing us to run with large boulders strapped to our back for a couple of hours as a warm up. My arms and legs were shaky, but in a way, I felt energized and almost looking forward to what the afternoon would bring. Grabbing my haunch of boar, I tried to bring it up to my mouth but my arms were shaking too much to lift it, and I chuckled as I realized the best way to eat the meat without dropping it on the floor or taxing my arms even more, by living up to my family name. I bent my head, uncaring how feral I might have looked at the moment, and I tore into the meat like one of the lashtail raptors that roamed the Barrens. At least I could honestly say that my mouth was not sore from the grueling exercise that we had been put through this morning.

“Can you not eat like a civilized person?” drawled a cultured voice, and I looked up, slurping the last bite of meat into my mouth to find a Sindorei female daintily sitting down across from me along with the other two female orcs and a female troll. These were the only other females in the group, and yet I knew that neither the troll nor the blood elf were going to make the cut as neither race was among the Elite soldiers unless they were back up in another way, such as priests or other arcane support. I personally had little use for those that twisted the shadows or bent the arcane to their will, because unless a fighter was right up on their enemy, seeing the fear in their eyes, feeling their blood splash on their skin, and breathing in their dying enemy's last breath, then the person was not a true warrior in my oppinion. The blood elf had the look of one who either consorted with demons or pulled the arcane to use as she wished, her fingers stained with ink and without calluses that showed she used a weapon of some sort, even a stave. The troll at least had the scent of the elements about her, telling me louder than any words that she was probably one of the rare Darkspear shamans, and she had probably been sent here, like the blood elf, to train alongside the warriors to get a better feel for working with them instead of against them should they be sent in battle together.

I chuckled and wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand. “If you were starving but unable to lift your food, you would find a way to eat in any way you could,” I countered with a shrug before going back to my meal. The troll chuckled and nodded her agreement even as she dug out a smelly salve from a pouch and she started rubbing it into her arms with a small sigh of relief. When I glanced over at the other two orcs, both were glancing between me and the blood elf who was taking dainty, almost nonexistant bites of her food. The one orc, her skin was almost a yellow green while her brown hair was pulled up into two small tails on her head, shrugged a shoulder and attempted to lift her haunch of meat. When she was unable to, she chuckled and leaned forward, imitating my own style of eating, apparently uncaring how it looked to others in the mess hall. I figured she was going to be one to last out the week since she appeared to be as stubborn as I was, and she was just as uncaring about how she appeared to others. The other orc, who had more brown to her skin than either of us and purple hair styled in a mohawk similar to what the trolls themsevles favored, managed to lift her haunch of meat from where it rested on the plate and I watched as she took small, careful bites despite the fact that her arms and hands were badly shaking, but her eyes were fixed on the blood elf. That one would be leaving at the end of the week as it appeared that the oppinions of others mattered more to her than how she did herself, hardly the sign of a true warrior.

I watched as the troll grabbed her meat in a three fingered grip and carefully lifted it to her mouth, managing to eat around her much larger tusks, and I grinned at her. Whatever was in that ointment that she had used, no matter how rank, apparently worked on overly sore muscles. I managed to ignore the rest of the mess hall as I focused on eating and drinking until my bones no longer felt hollow and I hoped that Logrul Steeltusk was not one to see if we enjoyed lunch a second time by working us until we threw up everything we had eaten. That thought made me frown and I managed a few drinks of my water, something I had insisted upon instead of ale or anything alcoholic, before I decided to eat my fill and nothing more. Better to be a bit more hungry at dinner than to be too full to finish whatever tasks Logrul Steeltusk had planned for his recruits this afternoon. The troll was the only one who seemed to notice that I stopped eating before I was completely full as the men were getting back in line for more food, and she nodded to the line.

“You going to get any more?” she asked, curiosity evident in her face even as her bright green braids swayed around her shoulders.

“No,” I replied with a small shake of my head as I managed to drain my water and gather up my garbage. “I do not know what the task master has in mind for us this afternoon and I do not feel like trying to work with an overly full stomach. Besides, I want to see what he thinks is light exercise before I start eating my fill and more.”

The troll nodded as she managed to finish her own meal. “A good course of action. I like it,” she agreed, polishing off her drink before gathering up her dishes as well. I tossed her a grin before I went to get rid of the bones and dishes, giving the later to a peon who was listlessly scrubbing dishes in a tub. Glancing back at the table, I noticed that the yellow green orc female had finished her meal and appeared to be following our example while the blood elf and the other orc were still sitting there, eating their meals in tiny bites, and I shook my head. The troll gave me a curious look and I nodded to the still sitting female orc.

“She'll be gone by the end of the week,” I predicted. “She's more interested in what others think of her than in furthering her skills. The blood elf as well, unless she is here like you to provide mystical back up as well as to learn how to work with a group instead of by herself.”

“And me?” inquired the troll with a slight chuckle.

I grinned up at her, not intimidated any by her height or the rumors that surrounded the trolls about them being cannibals because I knew they were cannibalistic and it did not bother me any. “You will last longer, shaman, but you will not be among the War Chief's Elite unless it is as support. You will last out the week, but whether you return to Vol'Jin to become one of his headhunters or remain as a supporter of the Elite with your ability to commune with the elements.”

The troll hummed as she looked at me. “You think you are good at reading people? See what they are made of inside?”

I shrugged a shoulder, being careful about not wincing in front of her. “Sometimes, because I have had to spend a lot of time proving myself to others. I have been wrong before, and I do not doubt that I will be wrong in the future, but that is how I see the females around me succeeding or failing.”

“Maybe one or two will surprise you,” the troll said and I chuckled, nodding in agreement,

“I will be pleasantly surprised if they do,” I said, enjoying the good humor while I could because Logrul Steeltusk was already starting to bark orders for the recruits to get their lazy backsides out into the training yard and what did they think he was running, an orphanage? Exchanging grins with the troll, I hurried out into the training yard and I took up my position in the formation as the others came staggering out, some still gripping the remains of their lunch. It was time for another round of warm ups, Logrul Steeltusk style.

True to his earlier actions that morning, we were put through grulling paces in the afternoon and more than one grunt fell to their knees and lost what they had managed to gulp down for lunch. I am proud to say that I was not one of them and neither was the troll whose name I found out was Ja'inra or the other female orc with the yellowish green skin, by the name of Rowana Darknife, who had no trouble completing the afternoon activities. The third female orc passed out halfway through the afternoon and had to be carried off to the healer's hall while the blood elf used some magical arcana to complete the tasks. Personally, I thought she should have been dismissed for that alone, but Logrul Steeltusk did not say anything as he watched all of us with narrow eyes. At dinner, it was easy to see who was regretting the large lunch as they were the ones who picked at the food, not sure if they should eat or not, but Rowana, Ja'inra and I enjoyed our dinner, this time Ja'inra offered us both her salve and my arms felt a lot better once I had managed to rub it into the sore muscles. The blood elf just sniffed and sneered down her pert little nose at us, but I did not pay her any mind. As far as I was concerned, she was a waste of space and air, and the only way she would get beyond this week is if Logrul Steeltusk was ordered to keep her around for whatever reason when it would just be easier to replace her with someone who was willing to work beside us as a team than flitter around, using arcane abilities to make the chores easier for her alone.

 

 

I stared around Gentle Mother Hanae's house, suddenly grateful to have listened to Old Man Misteye when he had talked about the smoke on the wind, where farmers were in various states of trama, some weeping outright while others had the glassy eyed look I was familiar with after an intense battle that had been as unexpected as the weather. These people were not true fighters, trained at an early age in the art of war and fighting. These were simple people whose biggest problem to date had been to get the harvest in before it rotted on the trees. And yet, now their lives were being turned upside down by this mogu invasion as those strange stone monsters dragged farmers off into the woods for some nefarious purpose.

Blinking, I ran that thought through my head again before softly laughing at my own high handed wordiness. Apparently, I had been spending too much time around Warlock Lielyn and in Dalaran to be speaking like such a well educated person. I know I had not been quite so well spoken before my death, the memories that had returned had shown me that much, but now I was finding words in my language that had not been there before when I had been a simple grunt in the army. I looked around the house again, taking into consideration that these people had been attacked with no warning, and as I looked a bit closer, I realized that some of them were starting to lose the glassy eyed look of battle shock and gaining the grim determination of wanting to make someone pay for what had happened to them. Gentle Mother Hanae's remark about the orchard tools made a lot more sense now, and I had a feeling that the mogu were going to regret attacking Nectarbreeze Orchard.

“I will not let some overgrown statue enslave and sacrifice my family as they had my ancestors,” growled one farmer, slowly rising to his feet with a hand clenched in anger, and he marched over to where the orchard tools that I had gathered were resting in a neat pile. He scooped up a shovel and bounced it slightly in his hand to test the weight and balance of it before nodding in acceptance of that weapon. Then he turned and stared around at the other farmers, silently asking who was going to join him in his fight for freedom against the mogu slavers. As I watched, another farmer pushed herself to her feet, determination in every line of her body as she grabbed a hoe, and then another farmer scooped up a rake, a burning fury in his eyes. In a way, it was humbling to see these simple farmers willing to fight for their freedom and their families against overwhelming odds, but I found myself standing a bit straighter with my shoulders more square as more than a few of the farmers looked in my direction for either inspiration or guidance.

Those over grown statues were not going to know what hit them when these farmers came down on them like a runaway avalanche. People always assumed that farmers were gentle people who were not fighters, but in reality, farmers were the most deadly warriors of all because they did not have any formal training. That did not stop them from knowing how to swing an ax, a spade, or even a ho with deadly accuracy that came from defending their land against wild animals. Many saw the farmers as defenseless since they were not trained in the ways of a warrior, but those people never saw the determination in someone who was defending not only their family but also their very lives. Besides, had not the monks of this land started out as simple farmers, practicing in secret to fight against those same mogu who had enslaved them while using nothing more than the same tools for weapons that these farmers now carried?

 

With a small smile, I watched as the Manns embraced, the lady doing her best to blink back the tears in her eyes as Hao Mann held her as if she was a delicate statue. From what I have seen of the Pandarian women, they were only delicate statues when they wanted to be or during a time of emotional chaos. I could honestly say that this was the later of the situations, but I honestly could not blame her for being relieved at the sight of her husband and the feel of him in her arms. My eyes returned to the jade fresco that was still half covered in vines and greenery, and a frown crossed my face as I watched the second of the three pannels slowly be uncovered from the wild greenery and the jade carefully placed where it had long ago been lost. The first panel showed a wise old Pandarian meditating on whatever subject had been bothering him or just relaxing with a quiet bit of meditation by a waterfall, yet the second panel was a bit more disturbing in what was being revealed. It showed two Pandarians in what looked like armor and weilding weapons facing off against each other in battle with fire burning in the background if what I could make out under the vines and faded paint was true. Was this a prophecy that civil war was coming to Pandaria? Or did it mean that it had come in the past and to beware it in the future?

There was already strong conflict on the land of Pandaria simply because of the presence of the Alliance and the Horde here, both wanting to conquer this land and make it their own, and I hated that thought. There was so much beauty here that I wished others could see if they only looked beyond the blood shed and fighting that beat through their veins, but I feared that it was too late for the goblins, who only wanted to see how much profit or destruction they could get out of everything, the Forsaken, who cared little for the living and only wanted to conquer and corrupt what they could, and even my own race of orcs, who wanted nothing more than to conquer and destroy those that they saw as enemies. I knew the orcs were not this bloodthirsty under War Chief Thrall, and I wish I knew of a way to bring them back to that more peaceful existance where they did not see a fight and an enemy in every shadow. The taurens could appreciate the gentle nature of this land as they lived in harmony with their own lands in Azeroth, willing to work with the elements and the land than against it, and it was a rather sad ting when I was starting to identify more with a race other than my own. Was this a side effect of my death and rebirth at the hands and magic of Litch King Arthas Menethil? Or was this something more that was more due to this wonderous land that was opening my eyes and heart to the beauty and peace around me?

“There are no easy answers for your questions, young orc,” remarked a deep voice beside me, and I turned to find Lorewalker Cho staring at the fresco as well with his own troubled look on his face. “The only answers that you will find come from within you if you but open your heart and listen.”

“Are lorewalkers mind readers as well?” I asked, my tome more teasing than serious, but I had to confess my curiosity in how he had known I was troubled, especially with as concealed as I was in my armor and helm.

He chuckled, the sound amused as he glanced at me. “I have no need to be. I have long ago learned to spot a troubled student even if they hide their troubles well. As you have not voiced your questions, then they are those that are not easily answered and very personal in nature. Everyone has questions like that, and only the person who asks them can find the true answers for what bothers them the most.”

I hummed and tilted my head, a quick glance around showed that we were alone on the cliff overlooking the fresco with even the Manns wandering off to do whatever it was they needed to do. “What do you do when you can no longer identify with those that share your blood and skin? That you find yourself looking more at someone who was born in a different land and wishing to not only learn from them, but also be welcomed in their home as if it were your own?”

Lorewalker Cho hummed as he stroked his beard, and I turned my attention back to the troubling fresco, staring at it as if held the answers to my troubles and questions. One thing I could honestly admit to myself was that Orgimmar no longer felt like home, and it had not since Garrosh Hellscream took over as War Chief. There was too much metal everywhere, reminding me of the Hellfire Citadel that resided on the Hellfire Peninsula in what was known as Outlands. The stench of hot metal and burning coals filled the air every time I walked through the streets, and not even the Valley of Spirits was immune from the brackish air and water as they were situated right next to the Goblin Slums where the water was so thick with chemicals that a person could easily walk across the water. Considering the way that they treated the land and air around them, it was a wonder that the goblins had managed to make it as a race instead of being wiped out due to their own foolishness.

“Your questions are not easy,” Lorewalker Cho finally said, and there was a touch of respect in his voice as if he had never expected such deep and complex questions coming from someone like me. Of course, he knew very little about me aside from the fact I was a warrior from a long line of warriors that came from Outlands and I was a fighter who could also think. “If your skin is no longer comfortable to your spirit, perhaps you should see about making it comfortable again. Change is never easy, and many will fight against it, wanting to cling to what is comfortable and familiar instead of what is different and unknown. A river that has been swollen past its banks by heavy rain and melting snow will often carve out a new path that is more comfortable for it to travel once the waters recede. That is what you must do to find your answers, carve your own path no matter what stands before you or what came behind you. None may choose your path but you, and to walk your own path is to find a home in your skin again. Even if your skin does not match the skin of your neighbors.”

I nodded, not fully understanding his words and advice at this time, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before things became clear. That was how the Pandarians seemed to think and talk, forcing those that listened to them to reflect on their words and understand that there was more to the advice than just advice. In a way, it made the advice more valuable because a person had to actually think about what the advice was and how it fit in their lives or answered their questions. Even if it could be as frustrating as a Goblin merchant at times. “I thank you for your words and will think on them, Lorewlker Cho, but for now, I must continue my journey.”

He nodded and folded his hands behind his back as he resumed staring at the fresco as I turned and started towards the trees off to one side. My bag of herbs was starting to get low, and I was going to need a lot more if I was going to make various potions plus experiment more for new recipes. It would give me a chance to either push the questions aside for now or a chance to ponder those questions in depth as I carefully picked the native herbs. Perhaps I would find one of the rare golden lotus that I had seen before and I now knew how to harvest to the best of my skills.

 

It was all I could do to not rip the letter in my hands to shreds and scatter the pieces to the four winds. The earlier feeling of awe and euphoria that had filled me up while I had been blessed enough to ride on Yu'Lon, the Jade Serpent's back, was blasted into a thousand pieces as if it had been destroyed by a goblin made bomb. General Nazgrim wanted me to cease my 'foolishness' and get back to Grookin Hill for what was probably going to be a large push against the Alliance with the hozen armed with Horde weapons and wearing Horde armor. Ancestors, I wanted nothing more at this point than to slit Gneral Nazgrim's throat or run my sword through his back when he was not looking just to remove his stench from this peaceful land. I sighed and crumpled the note, unable to lie and say that I had not seen it or read the hateful words that practically dripped in blood and violence before turning and heading back to Dwn's Blossom where I would be able to catch a ride with the kite master there to Grookin Hill. If I did not turn up in a so-called timely manner, then General Nazgrim would only launch the attack without me or declare me a traitor and slap a price on my head to get me hunted down by any crooked enough to want to collect that bounty. Such as a certain shademaster that did not mind sliding blades through peoples ribs or even finding new ways to poison others with the help of her sharp shooting orc friend.

“Someday you may also be called upon to defend all that is dear to you. When that day comes, seek all the light and wonder of this world, and fight.” The Jade Serpent's words echoed through my head, and I knew what I had to do at this point. I would report back to General Nazgrim and perhaps I could find a way around his orders to protect as much of this land as possible from the foolishness that was the Horde and the Alliance who were determined to destroy each other like waves crashing upon the rocky coast. I had not brought this war to the peaceful land of Pandaria, but I would do everything that I could to protect it from the worst of the fighting.

Sliding on my new helm that had been a gift from the Jade Serpent, I turned and summoned my death charger once I was outside the gates of the Jade Temple, not wanting to pollute such pristine beauty with Deathfire's hooves. My path was clear to me now, and I only prayed to the Ancestors that I was not making the biggest mistake of my life.

 

Standing on top of the Serpent's Overlook, I could only watch in growing horror as the Allaince with their army of jinyu and General Nazgrim with his army of hozen met at the base of the Jade Serpent monument like two tides that would not be swayed. Tears ran down my face as the first volleys were exchanged, and more than one ball of fire struck the hard work of over a thousand years, and I felt my heart break as the jade serpent statue tipped over and fell to the ground, smashing into a million fragments, destroying the work of centuries in a matter of moments. This was the truth about the Horde and the Alliance factions, neither could help but destroy all that it came into contact with, and I wish there was a way to rewind time to prevent the damage from happening in the first place. But the only one I knew of that could influence time that way was Nozdormu, and there was no way he nor any of the Bronze Dragonflight would mess with time if they believed that the events were what were suppose to happen, no matter how heart wrenching they may be for the rest of the mortals of Azeroth.

Suddenly, a white and black mist began to swirl up from the broken base of the statue, and a small whimper of fear sounded in my ears. I was surprised to realize that I had created such a sound, but as I watched the terrifying creature take shape, I knew that the worst was yet to come for this peaceful land unless there was some way for me to help. Wiping my tears from my face, I straightened my spine and promised to myself to do everything I could to protect this land even if those that believed they held my allegiance and honor did not work towards such goals. Garrosh Hellscream's lust for power and blood was going to destroy all the good in Azeroth even more thoroughly than anything Deathwing, Litch King Arthas Menethil, or even the Burning Legion could even think of, mainly because he had people who lived here doing his fighting for him as he ordered and threatened them into position.

'The one who rules through fear will only rule as long as someone does not gain courage.' Lorewalker Cho's earlier words, spoken soon after I had taken out the hozen Dook Ookem echoed in my head, and I realized that was exactly what Garrosh Hellscream was doing, ruling through fear. There may still be those that were loyal to him, but they were not in constant contact with him nor were they subject to his orders as I was. Even General Nazgrim feared Garrosh Hellscream or he would not have reacted as he did when he realized that the Alliance had managed to create an air base on Pandaria without the Horde realizing it. There was fear for his life in General Nazgrim's voice when he realized the full extent of the Alliance's planning on Pandaria because Garrosh Hellscream was not known to accept failure with an excuse and a pat on the head. Most of those that failed the blood thirsty War Chief of the Horde found themselves a head shorter or dropped off some place very high without the benefit of any flying animal to catch them.

Turning on a heel, I looked at Lorewalker Cho and Mishi, his cloud serpent companion and friend, who stood nearby, sorrow and worry on their faces. Tilting my head side to side, I felt my neck crack with a crunch of bones before adopting an air of confidence that had gotten even the greenest of grunts through a skirmish. “All right. How do we stop that thing or at least slow it down until reinforcements arrive to help take out that smoke monster?”

Lorewalker Cho blinked and seemed to come back to himself as he turned to look at the giant swirling mass of black and white smoke that covered the area where the Serpent's Heart statue had been nearly completed. I may not be able to turn back time and repair what had been lost, but I can definitely fight and avenge those losses while making the one who took everything out regret their actions. It was one thing I was good at after all, making my enemies pay for their actions.

 

As I watched the famous Chin Stormstout calmly sitting near the farmer's house while his young niece, Li Li, marched around in her impatientness to get moving again and explore more of Pandaria, I had to admire his calmness and how her words did not seem to touch him at all. Of all the things Ih ad been expecting when told by the Jade Serpent to meet and learn from Chin Stormstout, this certainly was not on the list. He was famous in Kalimdor for his brews with many brewers and drink masters there still attempting to duplicate his recipes, but all agreeing that the recipes that they came up with were nothing like the original recipes created by the Brewmaster Chin Stormstout. There was just something about him that made the ordinary ingredients into extraordinary ingredients and eventually, astounding drinks.

In a way, I could understand Li Li's impatience to see and explore everything she possibly could in this wonderous land, but something about Chin's calm approach to the journey made me stop and think. After all, more than one Pandarian had told me to slow down as life was to be enjoyed. Even with my fractured memories as they were, there were many things I wished I could have done before my death that I had taken the time to do after the Litch King Arthas Menethil has used Frostmourn to pull me from the grave. Simple things like sit on a cliff and watch the sun set as the sky turned into a rainbow of colors or watch the rain fall through the window of an inn with a fire crackling behind me. Of course, those had happened before the cataclysm and Deathwing's destruction of parts of Azeroth in a fit of temper as well as announcing his return to the world itself. After the world had cracked and parts of it burned, I had been too busy, running around helping people to worry too much about the sunset or the rain. Was I getting caught up in the race of life again, missing out on the small things that were going on all around me and the simplistic beauty of everything this land had to offer?

As if in answer to my thoughts, one of the marsh fiddlers hopped up to my foot to perch on the armor before rubbing its legs together, producing the delightful chirping song that seemed to echo around me in the grass. I stared at the small creature for several minutes as it played its song for me, and I knew this was a sign from the Ancenstors that I was taking my trip too fast, rushing my journey through this land in a desperate attempt to help everyone while trying to stop the fighting between the Horde and the Alliance. What I needed to do was slow down, savor my life again, and just enjoy the trip instead of rushing to the destination. So, I stood there, listening to the marsh fiddler's song as Li Li huffed and tried to convince Chin Stormstout to continue on with their journey, enjoying the simple things in life instead of rushing off to help the next person or look for the next spot of trouble to help out in.

 

Standing in the center of the Halfhill market was like standing in the middle of a delight for the senses, and the stomach. All around me, masters of cooking were perfecting their crafts, knives flickering in the sun, grain being pounded and rolled while large kettles boiled with various liquids, and the scents themselves were thick in the air. Meat, fowl, eggs, herbs, fruit, anything that could be used for cooking was in evidence here as various types of fires threw the mouth watering scents into the air. This food was nothing like what I had ever experienced before, not in Outlands and most certainly not in Northerend, because the smells alone reminded me a great deal of the people who lived on this land itself; interesting, exotic and it made me want to know more about it. I looked around, hoping to find someone who would either let me start sampling the food or start teaching me how to cook when I noticed a farm just off the market itself. There were what looked like weeds in the yard and there was a Pandarian who was desperately trying to move some rocks out of this field. It was familiar enough work for me that I decided to wander over and give him a hand. Besides, if nothing else, this would be a good place to start to talk to people in the market to learn the various cooks' skills in working with the strange and exotic food of Pandaria.

“Need a bit of help?” I asked, watching the Pandarian was huffing and puffing as he pushed and strained against the rocks.

He jumped and whirled around to stare at me, surprise on his face before a friendly grin spread across his face. “Ah, a pleasure to meet you, honorable traveler. I am Farmer Yoon, and this is my farm, the Sunwell Farm.” He offered me a bright smile as he waved a hand around the farm, taking in the weed choked fields, the broken equipment, and the large rocks half buried in the ground. His smile faded a bit as he looked around at the farm itself. “It does need a bit of work, but I plan on making it one of the great farms of the Valley of the Four Winds! My grandfather left it to me, and I wish to follow in his footsteps and become one of the Tillers.”

I nodded and looked around with a slightly more critical eye, easily remembering what was needed on a farm to make it flourish and prosper. Farmer Yoon was going to need some serious help with his own farm here if he was going to get anywhere with these Tillers. From the name alone, it sounded like they were a group of farmers that probably had banded together and controlled the local market in prices and goods. “What do you plan on doing with this farm? There is a lot of work that needs to be done before you can start growing anything other than rocks and weeds.”

Farmer Yoon sighed and noddede as he scratched an ear. “I know. It certainly is not as simple as my grandfather made it seem to be from his stories. I confess that I am a bit of a city paw, but I want to make this farm prosper. That is my dream, to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and be a successful farmer and a member of the Tillers.”

Nodding again, I looked at the rocks that were like miniature boulders that jutted out from the soil like a strange sort of crop. “Do you need a bit of help getting these out of the way?”

“Any help would be greatly appreciated,” Farmer Yoon confessed with a sheepish smile. “I may have the knowledge that my grandfather passed along, but I fear the practical application of such knowledge is a bit beyond me at the moment.” He tilted his head and stared at me. “If you are willing to help me, I am willing to share part of my farm as well as what knowledge I have with you so you might grow your own crops as a thank you for helping me get into the Tiller's Union.”

At first, I was going to protest, not wanting to return to a farmer's life since I had joined War Chief Thrall's army to get away from plows and crops, but I hesitated. This would be an opportune time to start cultivating more friendships in this wonderful land and even work my way into learning cooking skills from the various chefs from the Halfhill Market. Plus, it would give me a chance to grow my own ingredients for cooking instead of always relying on other farmers to supply the ingredients needed for cooking. Plus, this would give me a chance to see if it was the life I wanted to live here after I manage to get out of the Horde and out from under Garrosh Hellscream's eye. If I can farm, I can grow my herbs for various potions and such as well, only needing to head to the market for more vials or to sell my items as I make them out of the various herbs. A few might be more tricky to grow than others, such as the snow lily, but perhaps if I talked to a mage about enchanting a greenhouse to always be cold, that would help with that problem. Nodding once, I stuck out my hand to Farmer Yoon. “You have a deal, sir!”

Farmer Yoon grinned and firmly shook my hand, and I knew right away he was in trouble because his hands were soft and he did not have any calluses that said he was use to hard work. Unlike my hands on the other hand that were covered in calluses from weilding various weapons throughout my life, death, and rebirth, and I hoped that he developed those calluses quickly because he was going to have very sore hands until he did, hands that would be coverede in blisters before they were covered in calluses. Moving off to one side, I looked around, taking in the feeling of the area before I pulled my plate mail gauntlets off. There was still the chance of a virmin attack since this was a farm, and I did not want to have to beat them to death with my fists if I had my sword handy. Tucking the plate mail gauntlets in one of my pouches, I turned to the nearest boulder and started working on the best way to get it out of the dirt and where to put it when it was out of the field. Perhaps the boulders could be used in making a wall perhaps or even shoring up the cliff that the house was built against. Either way, it would have to go.

 

 

I watched with a heavy heart as Sunwalker Dezco carefully wrapped his dead wife, Leza, in the ceremonial wraps that would be her death shroud, and I held the extra wraps until they were needed even though I wished that they were not necessary. Her twin sons were being watched over by the midwife as their mother's body was tended. Sunwalker Dezco was blessed in the fact that his sons were healthy and alive, even if the second son was unexpected, but I just wish that it had not cost him his wife. From everything that I had heard about her, Leza had been a strong and stubborn woman who had insisted on coming on this journey even though her own health had dictated that she probably should have stayed back on Kalimdor instead of taking the long trip to Pandaria, but her faith in her vision of the golden blossom covered valley was strong enough to bring her to this shore and then up the river before she succumbed to the hard birth and the fever that had gripped her during her final days.

With a great show of honor and respect for the fallen woman, I watched as her body was carefully placed upon the specially constructed pyre amidst tears and solumn faces before Sunwalker Dezco moved over to the tent where the midwife was watching over the two baskets.

 

 

Stumbling into the Red Crane refuge camp, I immediately looked around for anyone who needed help with something or a good place to collapse for a few minutes to recover from those sauron or whatever those lizard like folk were called attacks, when my eyes fell on a very familiar figure that was only a bit more dingy than when I saw him last. Crouched next to some large river snakes with a bloody knife in one had was Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind, his clothes a bit more stained and travel worn than when I had last seen him in the hozen camp, but he was very much alive, in one piece, and quite free to leave when he wanted. Absently, I wondered if he had managed to salvage any bits of supplies from the hozen camp as I walked over to him or even if he had managed to get his own pack back from Shademaster Kyrin if she had even let him bring it with him after his capture. I walked over to him, watching as he carefully and methodically cut into the river snake's skull before extracting what looked like a venom sack before just as carefully putting it off to one side where a group of other venom sacks were resting in a large bowl for transportation to wherever they needed to be, and I could not help but compare Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind to Li Li Stormstout of the Wandering Isle. Li Li Stormstout would have been clammoring to continue on the journey, always wanting to see what was beyond the next hill or around the next corner, never wanting to stop and just enjoy the world around her, but Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind was almost peacefully sitting in a camp of refugees from the Red Crane Temple, carving up large river snakes as if he had nothing better to do with his time. I had to wonder if the calm serenity about the young prince was because of his training or because he seemed to be far too wise beyond his young years, and while I knew tragedy and strife had a way of making people grow up faster, I hoped that neither tragedy nor strife had been the reason behind Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind's advanced wisdom.

I walked over and dropped down next to Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind with a clatter of plate mail armor, close enough to talk to him but far enough away that I would not disturb his work. “Glad to see that you got away, Your Highness.”

He jumped slightly at the loud clatter of my armor before partially turning towards me, his knife gripped in his hand dripping blood but in a sure grip that relaxed slightly when he realized just who had sat down next to him. “It is good to see you survived yourself, Knight,” he replied with a small smile before gesturing to the river serpents as a Red Crane monk dropped a fresh dripping armful of the snakes next to the pile that he was carving up. “Do you mind if I continue working? The healers need the poison glands to make antidotes for those that have been bitten by the river serpents.”

“Go ahead. I know I do not have the finess to cut open a snake's head and remove a poison gland without destroying it,” I stated, pulling off my plate helm and my plate mail gauntlets before I scratched at my tightly bound hair. A quick glance around showed a crude but efficient hut built out of sticks that kept the worst of the elements off of the disciplines that were lying on blankets with healers moving between them, and it was only through long practice that I managed to ignore the sounds that came from those sick from poisonous bites. “So, what are you doing here?”

Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind shrugged a shoulder as he cut into another snake's head. “I managed to escape with the chaos that was going on at the Serpent's Heart, and I met up with a merchant who was going to Hafhill Market. He suggested I head to Zhu's Watch and when I arrived there, Miss Mei Barrelbottom remarked that I would best find answers that I wished for at the Temple of the Red Crane and to speak to Chi-Ji the Red Crane about my questions.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Only by the time I got there, the sha were already starting to pour out of the basement of the temple, and I found myself busy helping those that could evacuate to escape.”

“You did the best you could, I am sure,” I said, my voice firm in my thoughts that he truly had done the best he could against overwhelming odds that he had never battled before. “But why are you still here? I would have thought that you would have headed towards the nearest Alliance outpost and been on the first ship back to Stormwind and your father.”

That earned me a snort from Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind and he looked at me, a completely serious and far too old look on his young face. “There is a power here that could save thousands of innocent lives,” he stated, his voice full of conviction in that thought and I had to wonder if he had heard of this power or if he had a vision of it similar to the late Leza Dawnchaser's vision of a valley covered in golden blossoms. There was a strange similarity in the vision that I had experienced when I had sipped the tea made from the dream bush at New Cifera, but no one had talked about a large golden palace in the valley of the golden blossoms. I was not sure if I had actually seen the large golden palace or if it had been a fanciful dream brought on by the tea, and I did not have the heart to talk about the palace to others who had said that they had seen the valley of golden blossoms in a vision.

“It is those innocent people who have been caught up in the conflict between the Horde forces and the Alliance forces that I want to help the most,” Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind continued, turning back to his work even as his words snapped me out of my thoughts about the golden palace and the valley covered in golden blossoms. “Besides, I could not sit behind the walls of Stormwind, safe in my father's court, knowing that there were innocent people being hurt by our conflicts as much as my inactions.”

I sighed and shifted to rest my head on my hand even as I rested my elbow on my armored thigh. “Perhaps, but you have to get word back to your father that you are all right before he tears this continent apart trying to find you,” I argued but without any real heat behind my words. “Because that is what fathers do when the children they love are in danger, even if those children want to grow up on their own terms.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience there, Knight,” remarked Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind, and there was a small smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

“Nuanda Lashtail,” I supplied and I grinned when he looked at me in confusion. “That is my name, and I suppose it is.” I tapped the side of my head. “I am still missing several of my memories from before the Litch King Arthas Menethil, but many of them have returned over the years. One of the things I know is that my father loved me, and as much as he hated to see me walk the path of a warrior and one of War Chief Thrall's Elite soldiers, he was proud of me and he would let everyone know just how proud he was.” I tilted my head and stared at the young prince as a thought occurred to me. “You remind me of him in your actions and beliefs.”

“Your father?” Prince Andurin Wrynn of Stormwind looked at me in confusion, briefly pausing in his work before returning to his cutting up of the river snakes.

“No, war Chief Thrall,” I corrected, and I grinned at the startled look the prince gave me. “You are both strong in your beliefs and in your abilities. You both want what is best for your people, no matter what form those people may wear, and you both wish to end the hostilities between our people.” I leveled a thick finger at the young prince. “You both also will not sacrifice your people if a better way can be found, and neither of you are willing to follow a blood thirsty and violent path.” I chuckled and shook my head slightly. “Honestly, I believe you would be a better War Chief for the Horde than Garrosh Hellscream currently is.”

 

 

It was with a heavy heart that I climbed up the stairs of the inn at Binan Village, and already I could hear General Nazgrim growling at the Alliance survivors. I wish I could have just remained ignorant of General Nazgrim's survival as well as that of the others, because it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do back at the Serpent's Heart, signal Mishi to remove General Nazgrim from the field of battle and carry him off to safety. How much more easy would my life have been if I had just left him to die in the sha infested battle ground? I did not want to linger around him, but I knew that since he had recovered, he was going to start issuing orders again to secure Pandaria for Garrosh Hellscream and the Horde.

General Nazgrim glared at me as I came up the stairs on qiet feet out of respect for the injured that were on the first floor.

“About time you showed up,” he growled at me, and I did my best to ignore the bandages wrapped around his injuries. I glanced around but I did not see Sargent Gorrok or even Shokia, and that made me a touch curious. Did Shokia die of her injuries or had she been sent on ahead somewhere? And why had not Sargent Gorrok found his way back to General Nazgrim's side after I had helped rescue him from the Widow Greenpaw? I would have thought he would have been either at the Serpent's Heart or even here in Binan Village with the others. “There are survivors here that will make good allies for the Horde as well as helpful in our continued survival against the Alliance and its troops.”

I could not help but glance over at the Alliance admiral and his two companions, noticing the blood stained bandages on their bodies as well. I wanted to reassure them that Prince Anduine Wrynn of Stormwind was safe and learning everything he could about this land, but I could not with General Nazgrim right here and there was a very large doubt that they would even believe my words about their prince's safety and continued good health. Most likely they would see it as a trick or false information, and General Nazgrim would want to know how I knew about Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind's health and his location, and I was not in the mood to go into detail on that one bit. Besides, it would save my neck later from the executioner's ax and chopping block, two things I wanted to avoid for as long as possible.

“Go talk to the refugees and see who is willing to side with us, Knight Lashtail,” growled General Nazgrim with a dark, blood thirsty grin. “I am sure you can persuade those that would not normally side with us to change their minds in this situation.” I knew exactly what he meant but considering the yack-men who were attacking the refugees here in Binan Village, I was sure any strong arm techniques would not be needed, unfortunately. A bit of kindness and an offer of help and the Pandarians would be very willing to join up with the Horde. With a salute, I turned and left the inn, not willing to say anything for the slight fear that my disgust of General Nazgrim and our so-called War Chief Garrosh Hellscream would spill out of my mouth before I could stop it. I was deathly tired of the fighting with the Alliance and I really only wanted to fight against the sha, the mogu, and the yak-men who wanted to enslave and destroy Pandaria and its people.

I managed to ride through the yak-men or yaungol as I found out they were called with little difficulty. Apparently, a single orc death knight was not that big of an issue for them or even considered a target, which would be their downfall. Just because I did not look dangerous did not mean that I could not slice and dice with the best of them. When I came across the refugees, it was all I could do to introduce myself as part of the Horde and ask them for an alliance and assistance. In reality, I wanted to warn these farmers away from the Horde, and to warn them to never trust General Nazgrim and his group of maniacs, but I could not. I was still loyal to the Horde even if it was not Garrosh Hellscream that had my loyalty. When they started working on Westwind Point and I watched as Horde red started going up all over the camp, part of me wanted to cry at the thought of these peaceful people taking up with the likes of General Nazgrim and Garrosh Hellscream. Instead, I did the only thing I could do, swallow my anger at General Nazgrim and his group and do my best to work towards a better Pandaria.

After all, General Nazgrim did not care about the Pandarians beyond what they could supply the Horde and Garrosh Hellscream with, and if more Sha appeared in the land, slowly destroying it, what did he care as long as he could plunder the resources, stealing them back to Ogrimmar and Garrosh Hellscream's coffers for the war effort. There were times when I hated being part of the Horde and this was deifinitely one of them. These people needed our help against the sha, the hozen, and the yaungol before they were wiped out completely, and General Nazgrim just wanted more allies and supplies to show Garrosh Hellscream what a good job General Nazgrim was doing here in Pandaria just to save his own hide against what Garrosh Hellscream might do to him should Garrosh Hellscream think that General Nazgrim was somehow failing in his appointed mission to take over Pandaria. Frankly, I believed that General Nazgrim and Garrosh Hellscream had a snowball's chance in an fire elemental's hands, but I was not going to say anything so blatant to their faces. The Pandarians would not let themselves be cowed again, forced to follow one ruler or another beyond those that they have already claimed among their people, and frankly I thought that was a better way of life instead of bending a knee by force and following someone that was not fit to rule in my oppinion.

 

 

Sitting down outside of the One Keg Inn, I watched the camp bustle around me with a slight grin on my face. The grummies, a race of funny little people who believed in luck they could smell but were cunning and very good at carrying messages and supplies from place to place, bustled around, going about their business. Incense smoke filled the air, mixing into a strange mass of stink as the scents that would normally be pleasant by themselves, mixed to create an almost stomach churning perfume in the air but the grummies were gathered around various sticks, breathing the strange scents in with deep breaths before they shouldered their large packs, finished strapping bags and bundles to their yaks – freshly cleaned from the yak washing farm that was run by the father and son duo of the Muskpaw clan – and the strange group headed out, moving rather quickly for such small beings. The packs themselves looked much too big for such small creatures, but the grummies seemed to have no trouble at all in carrying such loads, much like their yak counterparts. Yet no matter how strong they were or even what strange superstitions they had, the grummie were not fighters in the least bit, and I knew that they would also be prey to the various dangers that had started putting in an appearance in Pandaria. From what I had heard around the camp that surrounded the One Keg Inn, the hozen were being even more of a trouble than usual to the grummie trail groups that were moving up and down the Burlap Trail


	3. The King Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War against Voldemort is not going well for Harry and his allies. So, he makes a desperate gamble and appeals to a Higher Power who might be able to help him. 
> 
> The Valar.
> 
> But what will their price be for their assistance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Harry Potter Time Travel fic that was NaNoWriMo for 215. It's also a crossover with The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings. Mentions character death in the beginning.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked around the clearing he had prepared for this ritual. It was one that he had to completely create with Hermione’s help before she had fallen to a Death Eater raid, and the last few bits, he had to cobble together himself, praying that he got it right. Since a raid on Hogwarts in what would have been his sixth year, the so-called Light wizards and witches had been falling left and right to Voldemort and his Death Eaters as the common folk seemed to just roll over and let him do what he wanted. Muggle borns and half-bloods were being rounded up and either killed for fun or forced into slavery, and those in the Ministry of Magic and Wizengamot were more than content to pass law after law that limited the rights of anyone not a pure blood. Too many of the children at Hogwarts had been dragged off in chains by Death Eaters before Harry and what few allies he had managed to get in his fifth year got so many more of them out before running themselves.

 

That had been five years ago. Five years of running, fighting, and watching his friends and allies be killed around him or worse had led to researching as much strange magic as he possibly could, desperately trying to find a way to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters once and for all. He did wonder how they were going to get the Death Eaters out of the Ministry when they had fortified their position with their various laws, granting anyone who was a Death Eater an all access pass to do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted. It had been a half crumbled scroll found in an abandoned house that they had been using as temporary cover that had provided the first steps towards the ritual. There had been a mention of the Valar, fourteen powerful beings that later research showed watched over the land and rarely interfering with the affairs of mortals. One rumor was that Merlin had been sent by them to guide a young Arthur Pendragon into uniting the kingdoms of Avalon, but Harry wasn’t sure how accurate that was. Especially considering the various rumors and legends that were always floating around about Merlin, Arthur, and the various magical families.

 

“You sure you want to attempt this, Scarhead?” drawled a voice behind him, and Harry turned to find Draco standing there, a concerned look on his scarred face. It had been a surprise when Draco Malfoy and many of the Slytherins had tossed their lot in with Harry and his allies, but Harry hadn’t turned any of them away, despite the fact that Ron wanted Harry to drive them off. That had been the final break in their rocky friendship, and the next time Harry had seen Ron, the redhead had been proudly leading the two concubine slaves he had been given by Voldemort for joining his forces. Draco, meanwhile, had been hit by a spell that had acted like acid and scarred half of the Slytherin’s face as well as removed most of the hair from his head. He had been very lucky that it had missed his eyes, and he had taken the scarring in stride, capturing the Death Eater that had cursed him and taken his time to show that he was a Malfoy and a Black as he slowly extracted information in between the screams.

 

“Don’t really have much of a choice,” Harry replied with a shrug. “We’re losing to him, Dumbledore’s AWOL, and it’s only a matter of time before the Muggles decide to join in, and then  _ everyone _ will be miserable. It’ll probably be the end of our society at that point.” That thought hurt more than anything because during his research, Harry had discovered all of the rich culture and history that he had never learned about in History of Magic from Binns. 

 

Reaching out, Draco wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Humming, Harry wrapped his arms around his lover and partner’s shoulders as he held the blond close, enjoying the feel of lips and knowing that it could quite easily be the last time. As much as he ached with the loss of his friends and allies, his heart throbbed with the loss those same friends and allies had suffered. Draco’s father had managed to kill his wife when they had been captured by Death Eaters, ensuring she didn’t suffer for Voldemort’s entertainment before he had been cut down by an Avada Kedavra as he fought against the Death Eaters, determined to take down as many as possible before his own death. Voldemort had not been happy that the two traitors had escaped what he believed was their due punishment for defying them.

 

“You’re not allowed to die today, Potter,” Draco growled into his mouth. “I have plans for you this evening that doesn’t involve standing over your corpse.”

 

Harry chuckled. “I have no desire to die today, Draco,” he soothed. “And I doubt I will with you and the others watching my back tonight.”

 

There was a polite cough, and they looked over as Luna Lovegood approached them, an appreciative smile on her face even as she apologized with her eyes. “It’s nearly time, Harry.”

 

Harry nodded, briefly kissed Draco one last time, and released him before he turned and walked to the edge of the circle of stones. Outside the stones, Harry undressed, folding his clothes neatly in a pile before placing his glasses and wand on top. The ritual called for him to bring nothing into the circle but what his body carried inside, and while he may not have been completely comfortable standing naked and unarmed out in the open when they were under constant threat of Death Eater attacks, he was willing to risk it for possible help. Draco and the rest of his allies were scattered around the edge of the clearing, and after a quick glance at the sky, Harry moved to the center of the circle and faced the west, lifting his hands as he centered himself, feeling his magic starting to stir inside him.

 

“Hear me, Eru  Ilúvatar, greatest of the Ainur,” Harry called, his voice ringing out through the air, and he started feeding his magic into the runes that made up the circle. Slowly, they started glowing with a silver and golden light as Harry continued. “I seek your help and those of the Valor. Manwë, King of the Valar and lord of wind, air, and clouds, hear my plea. Varda, Queen of the stars, hear my plea. Ulmo, Lord of the waters, hear my plea.Nienna, Lady of Mercy, hear my plea. Aulë, Lord of Crafting, hear my plea. Yavanna, Green Lady of plants, hear my plea. Oromë, The Huntsman and Great Rider, hear my plea. Vána, Queen of the Blossoming Flowers, hear my plea. Mandos, Judge of the Dead, hear my plea. Vairë, The Weaver of the World, hear my plea. Lórien, Lord of Dreams and Visions, hear my plea. Estë the Gentle, hear my plea. Tulkas the Strong, hear my plea. Nessa the Dancer, hear my plea.”

 

By the time he was done naming all those he wished to call attention to, the air was heavy with magic, and the wind was whipping around the clearing with a gale force. The runes were glowing as bright as the sun and the moon, and he had to shout for his words to be heard by anyone. As much as he wanted to stop and get something to drink, he couldn’t afford to. Any stopping at this point would be detrimental and possibly deadly for everyone around him considering the amount of magic in the air at the moment.

 

“Great Valar, please help us in this time of great need,” Harry shouted, feeling yet more magic swell up around him. “A dark foe has risen up and taken control of our world, enslaving all who are not like his followers and torturing those that oppose him before ending their lives. Our numbers dwindle…”

 

“And tonight you die, Potter!” shouted a voice behind him. Startled, Harry whirled around to find Voldemort leading a group of Death Eaters towards the circle, and the colors of various spells started flying through the air, barely noticed in the brilliant light of the circle. His heart was in his throat as he watched Draco go down under a rainbow of spells, and he wanted to cry out, to do something, but the magic kept him rooted where he was.

 

Voldemort gave a delighted cry as he found Harry’s clothes, and the young wizard watched as the Dark Lord lifted his wand in two hands. Red eyes met green as that reptilian face twisted into a sneer.

 

“Goodbye, Harry James Potter,” drawled Voldemort, and Harry was surprised he could hear the Dark Lord over the loud wind. He watched as Voldemort slowly bent his wand until the holly wood finally gave with a deafening crack.

 

Before Harry could do anything, the wind  _ screamed _ through the clearing and the magic exploded around him. He closed his eyes against the searing light but not before watching Voldemort’s body vanish in a rush of magic. Whether he was destroyed by the magic or simply vanished, Harry couldn’t say for sure.

 

When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a large, marbled hall with fourteen thrones arranged in front of him in a semi-circle with the two in the middle on a slightly raised dias. Each one held a person unlike any that Harry had seen before, and for several minutes, Harry could only stare at the ethereally beautiful people.

 

“It has been ages since any have called upon us,” mused the woman, sitting near the window with a veil covering her head. “But I feel your need is great, young one.”

 

“Are you the Valar?” Harry asked, looking around at them with a strange feeling in his chest. It had been so long since he had dared to hope that he barely recognised the feeling.

 

The man on the slightly higher throne raised a brow as he stared down at Harry. “You called upon us, Child of Melian, yet did not expect us to answer?”

 

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure,” sighed Harry, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “There was one brief mention of you that we found in a crumbling old scroll, and it was out of sheer desperation that a ritual was cobbled together in the hopes of reaching  _ someone _ to help us against Tom Riddle.”

 

The man was about to speak again when the woman next to him laid a hand on his arm, silencing his words. She looked at Harry, and he felt himself relaxing at the small smile she wore. Her long black hair seemed dusted with stars, and he realized that this must be Varda which meant that the man at her side was Manwë. “Tell us your tale, Child of Melian, and we shall decide if your cause is worthy.”

 

Nodding, Harry gathered his thoughts as he tried to decide where to start. Should he start with the first Blood War and Riddle’s first rise to power? Harry’s first year at Hogwarts? No, he decided to start with the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle to give them the background on why the promising young man had gone dark. “It all started back when a squib named Merope Gaunt fell in love with the local squire’s son, Tom Riddle…”

 

For what felt like hours, Harry talked about Riddle’s birth, rise to power, and how the decisions made by a child conceived from love potions and unable to feel love himself affected the world around him. He spoke of the prophecy and how it lead to the murder of his parents and his own placement with his mother’s sister and that family. His words poured out of him as he spoke of learning his own heritage and being invited to Hogwarts before being forced to face Voldemort again and again until his rebirth at the end of the fourth year which also lead to the murder of Cedric Diggory. It was as if a dam inside him had burst and all of the knowledge of the pain and suffering everyone had endured came rushing out as he talked about the various laws that had been submitted, the atrocities forced on people for the simple crime of being born to different parents, and the loss his own friends and allies had suffered for daring to help him fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves while the ones who wouldn’t fight buried their heads in the sand.

 

Finally, his words petered out as he talked about the ritual and the attack, his voice hitching slightly on Draco’s name before he finished his story. He vaguely noticed that sometime when he was talking, he had been dressed in a strange garment that looked like a cross between a tunic and a robe but was nothing like the wizarding clothes he had worn during his time at Hogwarts. It was rather comfortable for something that covered him from the neck down and lightweight enough that he wasn’t sweating in it.

 

“Do you wish our help for yourself, to further your celebrity status and return you to the status of being the wizarding world’s golden child?” inquired the man with ruddy skin and a full beard with a frown.

 

“No, I wish your help to save those I can’t, to help take down Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters to save the children being born now from facing a life of enslavement just because their parents aren’t magical,” Harry said, shaking his head in frustration. “If this was just Riddle and his followers fighting among themselves, I’d sit back with popcorn and watch the show, but it’s not.” He sighed. “As for the wizarding world, I don’t know how it’s going to recover from this with the corruption that is now rampant in the Ministry and the goblins siding with Riddle, handing over all the vaults that belong to anyone against Riddle, thus ensuring he has practically unlimited funds while we have to scrape for every copper knut for food.”

 

“Why should it surprise you that the goblins would side with darkness?” inquired the lady with flowers woven into her hair. “They are creatures born out of darkness and evil.”

 

“Because they are responsible for the wealth of the wizarding world and while they seemed surly, I thought they were honestly neutral,” Harry admitted with a slight shrug. “They didn’t side with him during his first life, and I didn’t think they would this time.”

 

Manwë hummed as he looked at Harry. “Those twisted by Morgoth and later by his servant, Sauron, are never to be trusted. It is in their nature to follow the darkness if given enough time to consider the action beneficial to themselves.”

 

“Riddle’s first reign lasted eleven years,” Harry remarked with a frown as he thought about this from another perspective. “However, there were still people strongly aligned against him who were keeping him in check for the most part. It was only due to the corruption that those Death Eaters who had escaped prison had spread through the Ministry that allowed him to rise to power once more without much opposition.”

 

“And seeing the darkness growing stronger than the light prompted the goblin folk into aligning themselves once more with the darkness,” concluded the very brawny young man with a frown. “Those twisted by darkness cannot be trusted to walk in the light again.”

 

There was some uncomfortable shiftings from a couple of those seated there when Manwë turned to look at a solemnly dressed man who slowly turned his head to look at the King of the Vala. “Advise us, Mandos. Speak the Doom you know.”

 

Harry jumped slightly, tensing at the word ‘doom’. He wondered why Manwë had practically ordered Mandos to speak and why he wanted the Judge of the Dead to speak about whatever this Doom was. 

 

Mandos sat up a bit straighter in his chair and fixed Harry with a stern, unwavering gaze that caused the young wizard to shift, uncomfortably before he spoke. “Child of Melian, Last of the Great Kings, he will bring about a New Age, uniting the world under one crown, and a Return of the Lost. Those who have shattered and been thrown to the four winds shall be reunited under the Raven Crown, and the Green Leaf shall guide the Wood into the Light of the world once more. Advisors and help he shall need and time will be rewritten for him as knowledge of the future shall assist him in his tasks in the past. Some losses shall be spared but others shall still happen. Educate the Child of Melian in the ways of Mordor to deceive the deceivers.”

 

To Harry, it almost sounded a bit like a prophecy, and he hated those after the one about him and Tom Riddle had pretty much ruined his life thanks to Dumbledore’s lack of helping him in any way to actually prepare to defeat the Dark Lord. He needed answers to the questions that were starting to get mixed up in his mind. Politely coughing to get their attention, he looked at everyone around him. “Forgive my rude questions, King Manwë, but who is this Last of the Great Kings? What world is suppose to be united under one crown? The magical world or the muggle world? How can a green leaf guide a wood into the light? Why did you call me Child of Melian? Who is that? How is time going to be rewritten? And most importantly, what advisors and help can be offered?”

 

There was some amused laughter from the seated beings, but Harry simply stood there, waiting for any or all of his questions to be answered. For far too long, he had simply gone along with whatever anyone told him without really questioning those actions. Life at the Dursleys had taught him to not question the adults in a position of authority over him. If he didn’t like what was going on, he had to maneuver around said adults such as when he, Hermione, and that traitor Ronald Weasley had gone to stop Quirrell from going after the Philosopher’s stone, or when it seemed like he had no help at all such as in fifth year with Umbitch and her Inquisitors running the school like their own torture camp. Draco had apologized for that when they met up later, and Harry had forgiven him after realizing that the blond was sincere. His heart ached at the thought of Draco falling to that barrage of spells, and while it was possible that he might have survived, Harry didn’t think it was likely.

 

“Melian was one of the Maiar who stayed on Middle Earth where she fell in love with one of the First Born,” the woman with the flowers in her hair stated. “She was the matriarch of your line, young one.”

 

The veiled lady tilted her head before looking at the the slender man standing at her side. “Olórin, You have the knowledge to answer the rest of his questions.”

 

“Yes, my lady,” murmured Olórin with a bow. He straightened and focused on Harry, and for a few moments, Harry had the feeling of a benevolent yet kind grandfather getting ready to speak to his favored grandchild before the feeling passed. “Melian’s descendants went on to become the King and Queen of Gondor, and several generations later, their very great grandson was Arthur Pendragon. Through them, you are the last of these great kings.” Blue eyes looked at Harry, curiously. “Did you not find it easy to lead your friends and allies against the darkness, doing what you thought was right even if it meant going against what others saw what was easy?”

 

“For some things,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “Other times, it was easier to keep my head down and plow through the day.” That was mostly his time at the Dursleys where he didn’t have  _ any _ allies to back him up.

 

“The blood of kings is strong in you,” Olórin remarked with a gentle smile. “As for what world is supposed to be united under one crown, you would start with the magical world and move to the mundane, uniting both eventually.”

 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think that’s possible to be honest, at least with the muggles,” he pointed out. “They can’t even agree on what name to give to God without it turning into an armed conflict. Plus, something like that would take centuries, and a wizard on average lives only around two hundred years if they’re careful and healthy.”

 

“Arthur Pendragon managed to unite his kingdom in one lifetime,” Olórin pointed out, and Harry got the feeling that he was being questioned about his facts. He wasn’t being called a liar, just being asked to justify his beliefs.

 

“King Arthur only had to unite one island, and most of those people had a similar culture and history that they came from,” Harry pointed out. “If you want me to unite the known world, there’s a lot of work to be done, and I doubt Merlin himself would be able to accomplish that in one lifetime.”

 

Olórin chuckled and nodded. “You are correct about that, young one. It would have taken me several centuries to unite the rest of the world under Arthur’s flag.”

 

It took a few seconds for Harry to realize just what Olórin had said, and he stared at the young man with wide eyes. “ _ You’re _ Merlin?”

 

“I have been known by that name,” Olórin confessed with a slight shrug. “HIs Majesty, King Manwë, allowed me to return to advise Arthur Pendragon as Aragorn was a good friend and strong ally of the Valar. Arthur turned out to be just as strong of an ally to the Light.”

 

Closing his eyes, Harry took a few deep breaths to calm his racing throught. This was certainly an unexpected development, but one that he couldn’t say was unwanted. After all, if Olórin was willing to help him, even just giving advice, Harry would be grateful for that alone. However, if he could get some training from Olórin, perhaps he could take Voldemort down fast and hard before he had a chance to hurt the world any more.

 

“Harry James Potter, will you accept the task laid before you?” asked Manwë, drawing Harry’s attention back to the King of the Valar. 

 

“If I am unable to achieve your task, what will be the punishment?” Harry asked, wanting to know what the downside would be for failure.

 

“The timeline will remain unchanged and all that you have fought for will fall into darkness,” intoned the woman next to Mandos, her voice echoing slightly. 

 

Harry nodded even as a cold lump settled in his stomach. Everything that they fought for, all the sacrifices, it would all be for nothing, and that was something he couldn’t accept. “Very well. Who will help me, and how can I unite the world with only a wizard’s life span?”

 

Looks were exchanged around the circle as the Valar silently communicated with each other before heads started nodding. Manwë looked harder at Mandos and the ruddy man with the beard and they both nodded in understanding before Manwë returned his attention to Harry.

 

“Harry James Potter, you shall become one of the First Born, living an immortal life to achieve the task placed before you,” announced Manwë. “As we are not without compassion and mercy, those of your allies who prove themselves will also become Eldar.”

 

Well, it looked like his problem with the time frame for doing what the Valar wanted was definitely extended, and he didn’t have to worry about losing his more trustworthy allies to old age which would definitely help. A few things niggled at him though. “Those that have been scattered that are to be reunited under the Raven Crown, how will I identify them? And no one has mentioned anything about the green leaf.”

 

“The Raven Crown belongs to the House of Durin, and one of the Sons of Durin shall assist you,” announced the bearded man.

 

The flowered woman snorted and shook a finger at the man. “If you think you’re going to turn this young man into another of your dwarves, even in manners, you have another thing coming, Aulë,” she stated before looking at Harry with an amused smile. “You shall also receive help from some of my hobbits. I think those that were brave enough to quest shall be perfect to help.”

 

Aulë shifted slightly in his seat. “Perhaps we should summon those we believe would be most beneficial in assisting Harry James Potter with his accepted task and see whom among them would be willing to help him.”

 

Manwë hummed and raised a hand as if summoning something, and Harry turned around as a pair of doors at the back of the room swung open. He watched as several people walked in, and he could only stare at some of them. There were tall, regal beings with pointed ears and graceful movements, a couple of ordinary looking humans, short, squat beings with full beards that ranged from just covering their faces to long enough to tuck into a belt, and a handful of smaller beings with hairy feet and a riot of curls on their heads. 

 

From behind him, there were a few surprised murmurs as Olórin moved from the veiled woman’s side to join them, taking on the appearance of an old man dressed in gray robes. He reminded Harry of Dumbledore in a way, with a kind smile and too wise eyes, but there was not quite the feeling of secrecy in his face that Dumbledore seemed to have.

 

“Are you sure you wish to return as the Gray Pilgrim, Olórin?” asked Manwë, and to Harry, the King of the Valar sounded a bit concerned but very kind, much like how Harry figured a father would ask a son if this was really what he wanted to do.

 

“I believe it would be most beneficial, Your Majesty,” Olórin stated, gesturing to Harry. “Many might distrust young Master Potter if Merlin appeared to guide and advise him, but old Gandalf has faded into the annals of history and myth by now.” He smiled gently at Harry, and the young wizard instinctively knew that Olórin would not betray or even mislead him for the Greater Good. “I doubt that the White’s powers will be needed at such a time. Besides, I could hardly stand by as the Lady Galadriel assisted Master Potter, not after all the help she offered during the War of the RIngs.”

 

“And the rest of you?” inquired Manwë with a raised brow. “What are your reasons for helping Harry James Potter against the darkness that is threatening his world?”

 

One of the short men stepped forward. His long dark hair was touched with gray and his eyes shadowed by some ancient grief. “In helping Master Potter, I will be helping my people return to the eyes of the world, taking their place among the artisans and metalworkers.” He nodded at Harry. “From listening to Master Potter’s report, it is apparent that the dwarves have faded from sight for whatever reason. I would unite them and give him an army of workers and warriors to lead against the goblins and darkness.”

 

“And you must be crazy to think you would be allowed to attempt such a thing without my boys and myself, Thorin,” stated another short person with a thick braided beard. Harry had thought the person was male due to the beard, but hearing them speak, he realized that the person was actually female. He took a second look at the rest of the short people and wondered how many of them were actually female despite the beards. She folded her arms across her chest. “Everyone knows you got lost in the Shire so you need us just to keep you from getting turned around.”

 

“I thank all of you for your offered help,” Harry said, bowing to the group. “But I fear that you have more to teach me than I have time to learn.”

 

“Nonsense,” huffed one of the curly haired people, his blue eyes peering at Harry as if sizing him up. “Lord Mandos himself had said that time will be rewritten for you, so you will be able to learn a great deal here to lay in a foundation for what you will need when you return.”

 

Harry bit his lip before turning to Manwë. “What about my allies? Those that fell in the fight during the ritual to call upon you? Will any of them be allowed to join me here to learn?”

 

“Who would you have at your side, trusted above all others?” asked Varda. “If they are worthy, they will join you as one of the First Born.”

 

Who did Harry trust above all others? A few names instantly came to him, and he looked up at Varda and Manwë. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, Luna Selene Lovegood, Neville Franklin Longbottom, and Hermione Jean Granger. Only two were at the ritual tonight as the other two had fallen a few months earlier during a Death Eater raid as they helped a group of muggle born children and their families escape on a refugee boat to America.”

 

Mandos lifted a hand, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat as his four friends appeared before him, wearing robes similar to what he was. Before he could think, he threw himself forward and smashed his mouth against Draco’s as he held the other young man tight. There was a second of confusion before Draco was returning that kiss, his fingers digging into Harry’s back.

 

“I thought I told you not to die,” growled Draco, glaring at Harry, and Harry huffed in return.

 

“A bit hard when Riddle snapped my wand after you went down under a barrage of spells,” Harry countered.

 

There was a polite cough behind them, and Harry released Draco enough to look at Hermione who was regarding them with an amused expression. “For those of us who have no idea what’s going on, Harry, care to clue us in?” drawled Hermione, raising a brow as she folded her arms across her chest. “I can only assume that you went and did something foolishly heroic when I was no longer there to keep you from running off at the first sign of trouble.”

 

“Hermione, Draco, Luna, and Neville, may I introduce you to the Valar,” Harry said, stepping aside and motioning to the fourteen seated beings around them. He grinned at Hermione. “The ritual apparently worked.”

 

Hermione groaned and pinched her nose in a very familiar gesture that indicated her frustration. “Harry James Potter! That ritual was incomplete, you idiot! You could have blown yourself up if the power being fed into the runes became unbalanced for any reason!”

 

Harry blinked in surprise before huffing. “So  _ that’s _ what happened! WOnder if Riddle actually died or if he got away again.”

 

“Explain,” demanded Hermione, glaring at Harry with her hands on her hips.

 

A chuckle from the group distracted Harry and he looked over to find Thorin glancing between the curly  haired young man at his side and Hermione. “SHe reminds me a great deal of you before you joined us, Master Baggins.”

 

“Baggins?  _ Bilbo _ Baggins?” squeaked Hermione, her eyes huge in her pale face. When the little man bowed to her with a smile and a polite “At your service”, she collapsed on the ground as if her legs had given out on her. “But they were  _ stories  _ the Professor wrote! How can you be real?”

 

“What professor is that?” asked Olórin, an amused smile on his face.

 

“Professor John Ronald Reuel Tolkien,” Hermione reported, still staring at the group with huge eyes. “He was better known as JRR TOlkien, and his first novel was a children’s fantasy adventure where a brave little hobbit is pretty much shanghaied into helping thirteen dwarves and one sly wizard into winning back the dwarves’ mountain home from Smaug the Terrible.” She took a breath. “ _ In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. _ That was how the adventure began, and he later brought Middle Earth back to his readers in  _ The Lord of the Rings _ where Sauron was defeated once and for all through the destruction of his Ring of Power.”

 

A blush stained her cheeks as she realized everyone was looking at her, but she lifted her chin in defiance as she climbed to her feet once more, but Harry simply grinned at her. He loved it when she went off on her little lectures because her eyes sparkled and her face flushed with her excitement.

 

“Well, I wasn’t  _ quite _ shanghaied, but it was quite an adventure,” Bilbo Baggins admitted, rocking a bit on his feet. He grinned at her. “I always wanted to be various characters in the stories I read. Did you have a particular favorite?”

 

A wistful look crossed her face. “I always wanted to be as beautiful as Arwen Evenstar and as brave and skillful as Eowyn of Rohan,” she confessed before wrinkling her nose. “Instead, the other children always made me feel as if I were Lobelia Sackville-Baggins come a calling, unwanted and barely tolerated.”

 

Bilbo harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. “Sounds to me that  _ they _ were the Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins, my dear. Don’t worry though, if there is one thing that there is no doubt of, it is the loyalty of a hobbit, and from what young Master Potter has told us, you have that in spades, doing what is right instead of what is easy, and helping him even if it meant risking your friendship.”

 

A slender blond with delicate features and pointed ears stepped forward to look at Draco. “Forgive me,” the man began in a soft almost musical voice. “But I feel as if I know you.”

 

Draco hummed. “It is a Malfoy family legend that the patriarch of the family was Locien  Adalbert whose son later fled to France and changed the name to Malfoy when the commoners under his care rose up and attacked the family, lead by their steward. Changing the name to ‘Bad Faith’ was a reminder to all descendants that the family had trusted in the wrong people and nearly paid the ultimate price for it.” 

 

“I had a younger brother named Locien before I Sailed,” mused the blond with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “As I do not know what happened to my family after I left Middle Earth, it is possible he may have gone on to father a human family.” He offered Draco a smile and a bow of his head. “Legolas Thranduilion, often called Legolas Greenleaf.”

 

Harry groaned and hit his forehead. “And the Green Leaf shall guide the Wood into the Light of the world once more,” he quoted before shaking his head. “Well, that’s one less problem I have to worry about.” He turned and looked at the Valar. “Can  _ anyone  _ speak clearly or must it all be in riddles and puzzles?”

 

Olórin softly laughed at that. “If we told you the answers clearly, then there would be nothing for you to work for, and you would forget the information just as quickly,” he pointed out. “By giving you a riddle or puzzle to solve, then you remember the information longer.”

 

“Would this be anything like ‘SPeak friend and enter’?” inquired the curly haired fellow with almost golden hair. Olórin huffed and harrumphed even as some of the others softly laughed or giggled at the expression on the elderly man’s face. The five rebels exchanged glances before sighing at the apparently inside joke.

 

“So, what exactly have you brought us back for?” Neville inquired, speaking for the first time. He shrugged a shoulder at the curious looks sent his way. “We  _ died _ , Harry. I distinctly remember a piercing hex hitting my chest before I was with my parents again, and I sincerely doubt you brought us here to reminisce or gossip.”

 

“How would you four like to go back in time with me and make sure Riddle gets his scaly arse handed to him before he can ever get a foothold in the world again let alone a new body?” inquired Harry with a grin as he rocked on his feet again. He waved a hand to the people gathered around them. “Mandos spoke a Doom on order of King Manwë.”


	4. Cursum Perficio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With most of the terrorists captured, there is an invitation by the Eternal Mother to formally sign a Peace Treaty in the little town of Natchstadt. How will this town react to having not only royalty in it, but also humans?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to "Reise, Reise" that tkaes place at the beginning of October the following year. I have much more planned but a *lot* needs to be rewritten as I didn't like it.

Cursum Perficio

Verbum sapienti

Quo plus habent

Eo plus cupiunt

Post nubile, Phoebus

Eternum 

 

(I am making an end to my course

A word to the wise

The more (people) have

The more they want

After the clouds, Phoebus

Eternal)

 

Cursum Perficio – Enya “Watermark”

  
  
  


With an exhausted sigh, Father Abel Nightroad entered his quarters, ready to drop from the seemingly inexhaustible missions he had been sent on for the past ten months. Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower, some clean clothes, a filling meal he could relax and enjoy without worrying about if the target was getting ready to move, and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

 

*I wonder how soon I can escape to Nachtstadt this year,* he mused, peeling his mud and blood stained cassock off with a grimace. He did not think Catarina would mind if he took a few weeks or even most of October off to just relax after the past ten months the entire Department of Foreign Affairs had experienced.

 

True to his word after last year’s celebration in Nachtstadt, the Contra Mundi of the Rosen Kruentz Order, better known to Abel as his twin brother Cain Knightlord, had announced that he was leaving to find a kingdom of his own out beyond the Desolate Lands. Then, the bastard had sent a list of those associated with his group along with their crimes to the appropriate heads of state. Catarina had decided to go on a cleaning spree, gathering up and arresting as many terrorists as possible in the Vatican’s domain. 

 

At first, it had been easy to round up the people, almost daily they were arresting one terrorist after another, but then as the weeks went by, the remaining terrorists on what was becoming known as Hell’s Hit List were getting harder to grab. Some had decided to form partnerships with those willing while others were trying to find very deep holes to pull closed behind them. It also did not help that Deitrich von  Lohegen had been one of those that was on the list but had quickly found a hole to vanish into. That one was going to be trouble when he finally poked his head up, but he was also very wanted as one of Cain’s lieutenants.

 

The silver haired man was thankful for the nearly unlimited supply of hot water at the Vatican as he reveled in the pounding spray. He had long since scrubbed his skin clean and washed his hair until it shimmered under the water, but now he was just relaxing under the hot water, starting to feel more like a person again instead of a walking mound of blood, mud, and exhaustion. He absently wondered if he had enough time for a nap before he met with Catarina. A quick shake of his head dismissed that idea. Better to update her on the Hell’s Hit List before he slept or he would not get up for at least a day.

 

The decision on whether to sleep or see Catarina first was taken out of his hands when he emerged from his bathroom in a cloud of steam to find her standing at his window, a thoughtful look on her face. He jumped at the unexpected sight and cursed himself for being so inattentive. He should have heard her enter even in the shower, and if he did not, that meant he was more exhausted than he thought, “Forgive me, Your Eminence. I was coming to give my report before catching a nap…”

 

Catarina smiled at him as she turned around, holding up a hand to stop his explanation. “I was not coming to you for your report but something else entirely.”

 

Blinking, Abel dried his hair before tossing the towel back towards the bathroom, and he moved over to her, wearing only the towel around his waist. “Then what brings you to my room?”

 

Instead of replying, Catarina held out a letter, and Abel took it, unfolding it with a confused frown. The wax that was still attached to the ribbon was an emerald green with a familiar crest stamped on it, but he could not remember where he had seen it before. The signature at the bottom of the letter however, was that of the Empress Augusta Vradica, the Eternal Mother of the Methuselah Empire, but Abel knew her as Seth Nightlord, his sister by adoption. His frown deepened as he saw that the letter was addressed to Catarina, which was very unusual since normally the Empress would write to His Holiness, Pope Alessandro the eighteenth. Abel scanned the letter before going back and rereading it, sure he had misread the information there. After the opening pleasantries, the Empress was inviting, Catarina, the Pope, and one more person (to be invited at Catarina’s discretion) to a small village near Vienna for a quiet yet official signing of the Peace Treaty. The mayor of this village had not only responded to the Empress’ inquiries with a warm welcome to Nachtstadt, but he had also extended an invitation to their revel that was held at the end of the month. The same revel that Abel went to every year as part of his vacation from all responsibilities to the Vatican and the rest of the world.

 

“Abel?” Catarina’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to find her staring at him with a concerned expression on her face.

 

“It appears there will be guests at this year’s revel,” he mused, moving over to sit down on his bed in a casual sprawl. He could easily ignore how the towel was gaping enough to give Catarina a free show. He looked up at her, finding a pink blush on her cheeks as she seemed determined to focus on his face. “You should be aware that the revel is just as raunchy if not more so than the one you were witness to.”

 

The blush grew darker as it spread across her cheeks, and Abel chuckled as he offered the letter back. “So what do you plan to do? I will not hide who or what I am in Nachtstadt, and if any of you grow embarrassed, that is your problem.”

 

“I confess that I would not mind attending one of your revels again but as a guest instead of a stowaway,” Catarina remarked, a smile on her face despite the blush.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Abel asked, highly curious. He had thought the experience had soured her on the revel since he had been absolutely furious that night when a sixteen year old Catarina had been brought before him by a few members of the revel as a trespasser. Abel had been unable to relax and fully enjoy himself as he was not only furious with her trespass but he also had to guard her from those at the revel who wanted to make an example out of her as a warning to the other humans.

 

Catarina shrugged a shoulder. “I thought you would offer as it is normally *your* vacation, and I didn’t want to impose upon your time.”

 

“Well, come to this revel and then we shall see,” he offered with a small smile before the smile fell from his face. He looked at her with a more serious expression. “With the signing of this treaty, your peace will be achieved, and my promise to you will be fulfilled.”

 

“While it would be nice if you decided to stay on with the Department of Foreign Affairs, I will not ask for more than what you have already sacrificed for me,” the blonde woman said with a sad smile on her face. “If you chose to not return to the Vatican after this, I hope our friendship can continue.”

 

Chuckling, Abel wagged a finger at her. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Catarina Sforza.”

 

Softly laughing, Catainra bent down to kiss Abel’s mouth. Automatically, the silver haired man reached up to bury his fingers in her thick curls as he returned the kiss. He did not know where she had learned this particular skill, but she was very talented. His body tried to stir and harden from the pleasant kiss, but his exhaustion kept him from anything more than a few twitches.

 

“Perhaps we might have a night to ourselves to enjoy each other as responsible adults,” Catarina murmured as she pulled back, slightly. Her eyes were dark with lust and there was a pleasant flush to her cheeks before she straightened. “But right now, I will take a verbal report of your last mission.”

 

Huffing, Abel turned to sit against his headboard and folded his arms across his chest. “Tease,” he pouted before yawning. “Or you would be if I was not so tired.”

 

Catarina only smirked and pulled out some paper as she settled at the small table that doubled as his desk. Picking up a pen, she looked at him expectantly. “Whenever you are ready, Father Nightroad.”

 

He nodded and shifted to get a bit more comfortable on the bed as he organized his thoughts for his report. “The intelligence placed Nicolas Duponte at Grenoble in the Alps. I arrived two weeks ago under the guise of a priest traveling through the region and found a hotel room with ease. A few rounds of drink that night and some quiet conversation with some of the locals revealed that a few strangers had recently moved into one of the houses on the edge of town. They normally only ventured out at night, but there was a girl there that often went about the town, running errands for those that now lived in the house. I was unable to determine if she was part of their group or an innocent that was just helping them because they presented a friendly personae to her. As she was able to venture out during the day, I assumed she was human but I did not rule out the possibility of her being a witch.”

 

A chuckle escaped from him. “I spent a week gathering information on the group as well as the rest of the town to make my actions less conspicuous, but someone must have been a close friend or being paid by the target group to inform them about anyone asking around because I returned to my room one night to discover a note on my bed from them. It stated that I was to leave town before sunrise the next morning and never return or they would start slaughtering the children they were holding in the basement. If any attempt to rescue the children was made, then the house would be blown up in a way that would crush the children.” He shook his head. “At that point, my mind was made up…”

 

***

 

Lying on his stomach, Abel carefully peered over the edge of the sheer cliff to the house below him. His hair was concealed beneath a black hat and dirt had been rubbed on his face and hands to hide the pale skin from anyone watching. His cassock had been traded for a black shirt, and he had a rope, his revolver, and a kit at his waist, making him more than prepared to deal with the terrorists, free their children captives, and disable the bombs he suspected were planted around the house. Someone in the group had some brains at planning because the house was next to a cliff that rose over a hundred feet in the air, making it impossible for anyone to climb down the cliff without being seen. He wondered who had joined Nicolas Duponte in hiding here and how many more names were going to be checked off of Hell’s Hit List.

 

He had already given the impression that he had permanently left town by packing his suitcase and walking until almost sunrise. Then he stashed his suitcase and flew back to the cliffs that surrounded Grenoble. A few quick changes and he was now collecting as much intel on the group in the house as possible. After about an hour, Abel counted five men in the house and their female helper, and he knew he would have to take them out quickly and silently until he could get to the explosives in the basement. He was not going to take any chances that the terrorists were not bluffing because that would lead to murdered children. The fact that said terrorists were hiding behind the threat of killing the children made Abel want to take them out with extreme prejudice, and he wanted to hurt them a lot. He nearly purred at the imagined sounds of bones being broken while blood flowed in hot rivers of thick crimson before he shook his head and he forced those thoughts back to the recess of his mind. He did not have the luxury of indulging in his Crusnik instincts that wanted broken bones and flowing blood but he promised himself that not one Methuselah terrorist would escape him to harm the children.

 

Tucking the binoculars away in a small pouch on his hip, Abel shifted to the edge of the cliff and he started climbing down the sheer face of the cliff like an overgrown spider or Dracula in the ancient vampire story descended the wall of his castle. He shifted enough to extend his claws and he dug them into the rocky side, easily getting various hand holds by creating them through sheer force. A normal person would require climbing gear and rope that could be cut on the slow climb down which would also allow them to be easily spotted by the resident terrorists living in the house below, but Abel was not limited by such constraints like climbing gear and with his dark clothing, he would be very difficult to spot against the cliff side, a trick he had learned during Armageddon when he was unable to use his wings to descend from a high surface.

 

By the time he reached the bottom of the cliff, the sky was starting to fade from the midnight black to a faint pink that was the first sign of day, and Abel quickly scurried across the open ground to press himself against the foundation of the house, acting as if he was nothing more than a black shadow on the ground. He pressed his ear against the stone foundation and strained his ears to hear any sound through the thick stones. His breath hitched his his throat as he heard soft crying and scared whimpers coming from the other side of the stones before a very adult voice snarled. “Stop your whimpering you brats! Once we are sure the priest is gone, you will be free to go back to your mommies and daddies.”

 

*That is one accounted for,* Abel mused as he slowly started crawling around the house to find an entrance into the cellar because he had to take care of those bombs first. If the terrorists were going to bring the house down on the children then the only structurally logical spot for the bombs would be around any of the support pillars in the cellar where the children themselves were being held captive.  Once the bombs were disarmed and removed, then the silver haired man would be free to take down the terrorists themselves while making them wish they had never brought children into this cowardly plan in the first place.

 

About halfway around the house, Abel found a small window located next to the ground and a bit grimy, but a quick wipe of the silver haired man's sleeve gave him a good view down into the basement. He felt a growl starting in his throat. There were about twelve children of various ages scattered around the floor, some clinging to each other in an effort to offer comfort while over them stood Nicholas himself, a gun in his hand. Yet what caused the urge to growl in anger was the three bombs strapped to the center pillar in the room, each one bristling with dynamite. With that much dynamite, it would be amazing if the children survived the blast itself let alone the house falling down on them. 

 

“Hey Nicholas!” called a voice from above Abel, and the silver haired man froze as the terrorist walked over to a set of stairs leading up to the first floor. There was a square of light that suddenly fell on the Methuselah, and Abel figured that someone had opened a door above him. “The preacher man is gone. He walked out of town about five hours ago.”

 

A cruel smirk stretched across Nicholas' face as he started up the stairs. “Good. We will continue hiding here for another three days as we search for a new spot to hide.”

 

“What about the brats?” asked the voice.

 

Nicholas chuckled. “They are our insurance policy should any more of the church's watch dogs start sniffing around,” he drawled before the door shut behind him, cutting the light off and leaving the children alone with only the bombs for company.

 

Oh Nicholas was going down hard for that idea, Abel promised himself as he wiped  the window clean of grime so he could see inside more easily. His eyes examined the window frame with a careful scrutiny as he tried to find out if the window was wired for an alarm or even it it was locked. Apparently, the terrorists were expecting to use their anonymity as their security because there was no sign of any alarm or even any wires that might lead to such a device. With careful fingers, he gently pushed on the window, smirking when it quietly opened inward, and it gave him enough space to slip into the basement. He looked at the children before motioning for them to be quiet as he moved over to the bombs, his hands dipping into the pouches at his hips to withdraw his tools, and he started working on disarming the bombs. The children watched in a tense yet hopeful silence as Abel worked on the deadly bombs, and he smirked in satisfaction as the bombs were disabled and taken apart to verify that there was no way of setting off the dynamite. Then he quickly but thoroughly searched the rest of the basement for any other bombs just in case this group had more than one way of bringing the house down on the children, and he was pleased when he did not discover any further explosive devices.

 

Turning around, he motioned for the children to gather around him, and they quickly did so, hope shining on their faces as he knelt down to speak to them. “I am going to lift you up to the window one at a time. I want you to wait until everyone is outside before you are to run to the center of the village. Run as fast as you can and do not look back at the house. Help each other get to the center of the village before you head for an adult to take you home. Do you understand me?”

 

The children quickly nodded, and Abel smiled at them before he started lifting them up to the window he had come in through. He would wait until one had wiggled through before lifting the next child up but it was only a matter of a few minutes before all the children were outside and some of the older ones had lifted the smallest of the children into their arms or onto their backs before the twelve children vanished from the side of the house. With a tight smile, Abel ghosted up the stairs and he quickly slipped into the house proper without alerting any of the terrorists that he was there or that their hostages had been freed.

 

***

 

“After that, it was a quick and easy matter to round up the terrorists and ensure they did not escape,” Abel remarked around a yawn. His eyes were almost closed and he was barely hanging on to consciousness at the minute. He knew however, that he had to finish his report or he would forget to finish it later once he fell asleep. Plus there was no telling how long he would sleep. “I signaled the Iron Maiden for a pick up, but when the ship arrived, a few of the terrorists had managed to heal enough to try one last escape attempt.” He gestured to the bloodstained and muddied cassock. “I was trying very hard to not kill them but they themselves did not have such qualms about trying to kill me. I finally managed to snap their necks to keep them from escaping again and once the Iron Maiden returned to the Vatican about half an hour ago, I turned the terrorists over to the medical center in the jail after informing the terrorists what they were being arrested for.” He chuckled. “I remembered to add kidnapping and attempted murder to their charges as well.”

 

“Very good. I will make a note of those charges in their files when I go to update the Hell's Hit List,” Catarina remarked before standing up and walking over to the bed. She handed a pen to Abel before offering the papers in her hands. “Now I just need you to sign off on this report and I will file it with the rest of the reports.”

 

Abel yawned again as he scratched the pen across the papers, knowing Catarina only had the report under his hand and not something more malicious or a trick. Cain use to do that when he wanted to get out of something back during Armageddon, waiting until whomever he had been on a mission with was exhausted after the mission before tricking them into signing something other than the official report, and it often let Cain get out of various duties.

 

Soft lips brushed against his, and Abel purred into the kiss. Catarina really was an excellent kisser, and he was definitely going to have to find out where she learned such a skill. “Sleep yourself out, Abel. The missions will wait until you wake up again.”

 

Abel hummed before he slid sideways into Catarina's arms, asleep before he had a chance to get more comfortable as his exhaustion reached up to drag him down into the comforting darkness of oblivion.

 

***

 

With gentle hands, Catarina eased Abel down until he was lying flat on his bed, and then she removed the towel around his hips before covering him with his blanket. Gathering up the report and the letter, she left her old friend to his slumber as she returned to her office, her thoughts whirling. She knew that Abel always needed the few days away from the Vatican every year to recover from the stress of the rest of the year due to missions and hiding behind his foolish yet kind priest mask. This was going to put serious strain on him, and the last thing she wanted was to cause her friend any more harm than what was necessary during the course of his duties. Shaking her head, Catarina dismissed all thoughts for now until she was back in her office and could try to figure out a solution to this mess before either Abel's normal vacation time or the signing of the treaty itself.

 

Catarina quickly closed the door behind her after sending a sister for some tea, and she filed Abel's report before she sank into the chair behind her desk as she pulled the letter out of her pocket again. Unfolding it, she read it again and sighed, shaking her head in frustration. Part of her, the cynical part that was always looking for a knife in the back, had to wonder what the Empress and the mayor of Nachtstadt, Johann Reinhard Gross, were going to get out of inviting ordinary humans to not only Nachtstadt but also to the revel. The rest of her was excited at the thought of being welcome to join in with the various beings that were the regular guests at the revel.

 

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the polite knock on her door and she called for the person to enter. The sister quietly entered and set the tray on Catarina's desk with a small smile. “Is there anything else Your Eminence requires?”

 

Catarina nodded. “If you could find Father Leon de Asturia and have him report to me as soon as possible? He should be in the training yard.”

 

The sister giggled and blushed as she dropped a quick curtsey before scurrying out of the room, and Catarina could only roll her eyes at the girl's antics. Yes, Leon Garcia de Asturia was a very handsome and charming man, but as he is so quick to point out, he is a Spaniard. All Spanish men are handsome and charming while all Spanish woman are gorgeous and flirty. Catarina knew that Sister Kate Scott was always warning the nuns that it was possible to get pregnant by just looking at Leon, but that did not deter them from looking and gossiping about the Spaniard in any way.  While Leon might flirt with the nuns, Catarina knew that there was currently only one woman in Leon's life that was the center of his world, and that was his daughter, Sophia Contessa de Asturia.

 

A second knock on her door herald the arrival of Leon, and Catarina waved him towards the chairs that were placed before her desk. He wore the same expression of borderline exhaustion that the entire department had appeared to adopt over the past several months, and Catarina felt just as exhausted as the rest of them. While she was not going on missions like they were, she was still fighting politically for peace as well as sorting through all the information that passed over her desk to see where various terrorists were at any given time.

 

“You wished to see me, Your Eminence?” Leon asked, his voice wary as if he was expecting to be sent out on another mission already. Catarina knew he had only just arrived back a few days before, and he had spent most of that sleeping and recovering so he would not scare his daughter or worry her when he went to visit her.

 

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Father Leon,” Catarina remarked, rising to her feet and walking around the desk to offer Leon the letter. “I would like your opinion on this.”

 

Leon blinked in surprised confusion even as he took the letter from her hand. “Shouldn't Father Abel be the one to see this?”

 

“He saw it before he fell asleep,” remarked the blonde as she leaned back against her desk. “However, that letter seems to raise a sight problem.”

 

Leon frowned as his eyes skimmed over the letter. “It's during his yearly vacation as well as where he normally heads to enjoy his brief time off.”

 

Catarina raised a brow at that information. She thought only herself, Father Tres Inques, and the newly discovered Princess Esther Blanchette of Albion knew where Abel spent his yearly vacation. “I was unaware that any save a very few knew where Abel went every year.”

 

“It was a couple of years after I joined the department,” Leon explained with a grin and a shrug. “We ran into each other at the ticket counter and I heard where he was going. I had to head to Vienna on a mission, and he teased me about following him.” He chuckled. “It became something of a running joke with us every year. I would see him pack, and he would ask if I was going to follow him. I've never been to Nachtstadt for anything more than the train stopping, but it looks like a lovely and peaceful place to either visit or live.”

 

“If Abel is unable to accompany me due to prior commitments, I would like you along,” Catarina announced. “I don't know how long we will be there but I doubt it will be more than a day or two past the revel.”

 

Leon inclined his head, silently thanking her for the information. “I will let Sophia know when I go to see her today that I may be out of town.” He grinned. “That just means I will spoil her more when I see her after we return.”

 

“There is another item that does not go beyond this office,' Catarina stated, waiting for Leon's promise to not repeat what she said before continuing. “If Abel goes with me to Nachtstadt, there is the possibility that it will be his final mission with the Department. If he does not return to the Vatican, I would like for you to become my second.” 

 

“Those are some very big shoes to fill,” Leon remarked, his voice thoughtful. “I am honored you asked, and I will accept on the Pro Bono that the position is always available for Abel should he return at any time for any reason.”

 

Catarina chuckled. “I believe that can be arranged.”

 

Leon nodded as he rose to his feet. “Was there anything else you required, Your Eminence?”

 

“Find me a sedative for the talk with Brother Petros?” she joked with a wan smile. She was not looking forward to that conversation as Brother Petros of the Inquisition took his duty to Alessandro's safety very seriously. Yet she highly doubted the Knight of Destruction would be allowed at the Peace Treaty signing unless he was to be a present for the Empress.

 

Leon turned to leave the office before stopping to glance at Catarina. “You know, an easy way to let Abel get his vacation in would be to send him ahead to Nachtstadt to ensure the rooms are ready for everyone before letting him go on his vacation. I'm not entirely sure what sort of village Nachtstadt is, but the citizens might appreciate Abel on their side of things when all the royalty descends upon them.”

 

Blinking, Catarina looked at Leon curious. “That is a very good idea, Father Leon. In that case, I will be requiring your services to help escort His Holiness to Nachtstadt in five days. I will contact both Her Royal Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty to arrange for all of us to travel together so there is more security.”

 

Grinning, Leon swept into a bow. “By your leave, my lady.”

 

Catarina waved him out of the office before turning her attention back to the paperwork that seemed to increase on her desk whenever she wasn't looking. When the door clicked shut behind Leon, Catarina picked up her phone and dialed a number that would connect her to the Imperial Palace. As she waited for someone to pick up, she pulled a sheet of paper over to her to make notes on the trip, including the best way to go about getting Alessandro to the village without making it a very large security issue. She could get the tickets ahead of time, sending one of her people down to the station to pick them up, and then they would just have to board the train. If they all dressed in street clothes and carried the royal finery and objects of state in suitcases, they would draw even less attention to themselves and could easily pass as a family going on vacation instead of two groups of royalty.

 

There was a click as someone picked up the phone on the other end, and after identifying herself, Catarina was connected to the appropriate person in the palace, Mirka Fortuna, Duchess of Moldova. Catarina vaguely remembered the woman from Abel's report of the failed assassination attempt in the Empire, but Abel had not gone into very many details on that mission when it came to the people themselves. He had assured Catarina that the people had their secrets for a reason, and although he might know those secrets, he would not share them without permission. Catarina knew that Abel cherished whatever secrets he was given or discovered, and she respected his silence.

 

“How may I help you this morning, Your Eminence?” inquired a soft, almost sweet sounding voice, and Catarina could almost picture the Methuselah duchess behind her desk that was probably piled just as high with papers and reports as Catarina's.

 

“I wish to discuss the invitation I just received for the signing of a peace treaty, Your Eminence,” Catarina began, getting more comfortable behind her desk even as she started fiddling with her pen. “Specifically the safety precautions regarding the travel of our respective representatives.” While she constantly had a white noise generator going on in her office to prevent Cardinal Francesco diMedici from using any listening devices on her conversations in an attempt to undermine her, she did not know what sort of security precautions the other woman had nor if the line itself was tapped.

 

Her words earned her a soft chuckle from Fortuna. “You may speak plainly, Your Eminence. This line is secure from all eaves droppers.”

 

“Very well. This is what I propose for the safety of the Empress, the Queen, and the Pope,” said the blonde with a small grin. “The three parties meet in Rome, wearing plain clothes so as to not attract attention while carrying any symbol of office plus all official clothing in suitcases. I will send one of my priests ahead to the village to verify rooms have been secured for all of us, and he will be waiting for us when we arrive at the train station. Does this sound like a satisfactory plan to you, Your Eminence?”

 

“Which priest would you send ahead?” inquired the Duchess of Moldova.

 

“Father Abel Nightroad.”

 

“He is a good choice to send ahead, but I would have thought you would prefer to have him with your party during travel,' remarked Fortuna, and Catarina could hear a note of surprise in her voice. 

 

Catarina let out a soft sigh as she came to a decision. She would confess this to Abel later and ask his forgiveness. “Father Nightroad often takes a vacation around this time each year to the very village that we will be going to. I have already decided on Father Leon Garcia de Asturia to make up the third member of our party. Father Nightroad will not be part of the Vatican from the time he secures the rooms to the time we return to our respective countries.”

 

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone, but Catarina could hear some movements to indicate that she had not been disconnected in any way. “Her Imperial Majesty was unaware that anyone at the Vatican was familiar with Nachtstadt which was why she chose that place as the site to host our parties,” Fortuna remarked, her voice cautious as if she was carefully choosing her words “Would it be easier if another village was chosen?”

 

“At this time, I believe it would be more of a hassle to find another location,” Catarina remarked. “Besides, going to Nachtstadt will give us all an advantage as we will have someone who is familiar with the town and the people, so if anyone extra tries to crash the party, they will be quickly spotted. As long as everyone is aware that Father Nightroad will not be a member of the Vatican party during the time we are there, everything should be fine.”

 

A soft laugh slipped down the line. “Is this a clever ploy to have an extra member in the town?” teased Fortuna, and Catarina found herself chuckling in return.

 

“Not unless you decide to have the Earl of Memphis become part of Her Royal Majesty's party, thus allowing you to have four members as well in Nachtstadt,” countered Catarina with a smirk on her lips. She did enjoy the verbal sparring as long as it was kept at this level. When it turned into the usual yelling matches that she and Francesco had in Full Court, that was when she hated politics. Especially when Alessandro was the one that suffered the most out of them.

 

“Touche, Your Eminence,” laughed Fortuna. “When did you wish to leave?”

 

Catarina flipped through the calendar that was open on her desk. “I can send Father Nightroad out in three days, and we can head out from Rome in Five. Would that be satisfactory to you?”

 

There was a hum from Fortuna and rustling pages that was her flipping through a calendar as well. “Actually, it will take us a day to get to Rome. Perhaps send Father Nightroad out in four days and then head out the following day? That would give him time to rest and recover from all of the missions he must be going on. Our own investigator will not be back until then, and I would prefer if the Viscountess would be the third in our party.”

 

“That will give me plenty of time to purchase tickets for everyone as well as arrange things with Her Royal Majesty,' Catarina agreed, scribbling on the paper the new details. “I will contact you about your arrival plans and our departure time in two days.”

 

“Until then, Your Eminence,' remarked Fortuna before signing off. Catarina hung up the phone and jotted down a few last minute ideas before turning her attention back to the phone. This time, the number she dialed was to Albion.

 

***

 

With a relieved groan, Abel stretched as he sat up in bed. He wasn't sure how long he had slept but it felt good to not be so exhausted any more. Now he just felt tired, but it was more an emotional tiredness than a physical one. Climbing out of bed, he stumbled to the bathroom to freshen up before getting dressed for the day. He knew he had to touch base with Catarina to see how the Hell's Hit List roundup was coming, but he also wanted to know if there was anything more about the Peace Treaty signing and the potential trip to Nachtstadt. He could honestly admit he was torn about going to the village as a priest because he had never shown up there in his cassock before. There had been enough tension in the people who lived there after Esther walked through town in her habit that relaxed only because he assured them he would take care of the problem she represented and he had *not* been in his cassock.

 

*Maybe there is a way to do this that wouldn't panic people nor would turn against me for being part of the Vatican,* sighed Abel, ducking under the hot water of his shower. He quickly scrubbed but his mind was not on his cleaning. Instead, he was trying to figure out a way where he could retain his anonymity within the village, but he could not think of any. Perhaps if he knew what he was going to be doing after the treaty was signed, he might have a better idea of how to approach this problem.

 

Several minutes later, he was dressed and heading towards Catarina's office but he was no closer at finding a solution to his problem. There were too may what ifs and uncertainties for him to find a definite solution to this question. He knocked on the door and waited to be invited in as he tried to push the thoughts from his mind. He managed to pull up a smile for Catarina who looked to be half buried behind her desk. She was looking a bit more rested so maybe he had slept longer than just a night. “You wanted to see me when I woke, Your Eminence?”

 

Catarina looked up and smiled at him. “You certainly are looking much more rested, my friend,” she remarked before rising and walking around her desk to hug him. Abel wrapped his arms around he and hugged her back, enjoying the warmth of her body in his arms. That was one of the reasons he enjoyed his time in Nachtstadt, because the people there did not hold themselves aloof from each other. They would often greet each other with a hug or a hearty handshake and a slap on the back. Catarina pulled back and seriously looked at Abel, and he wondered what she was looking for in his face. “Come on. Let me take you out for lunch. We can collect Leon along the way, and talk about things in a private room.”

 

“Are you sure? I mean, you know how large my appetite is,” Abel lightly protested, but his stomach growled loud enough to be mistaken for a tiger, and Catarina laughed as a blush spread across his face. “It appears I am out voted.”

 

Stepping over to her desk, Catarina picked up a folder as well as dug a plastic card out of her drawer. “Let's go find that Spaniard before you fall asleep again,' she teased, but there was a shadow of worry in her eyes.

 

Abel offered her his arm as they left the office. “How long was I asleep?”

 

“Two days.” Abel nearly stumbled over his own feet in shock at her answer. He could not remember the last time he had slept so long in one setting. Apparently the missions were taking a larger toll on him than he originally thought. He opened his mouth to ask for the rest of October off so he could escape to Nachtstadt early when Catarina held up a hand. “We will talk about vacations, Hell's Hit List, and the contents of the letter over lunch.”

 

He found himself simply nodding and following along as they made their way through the Vatican towards the training grounds where Leon enjoyed spending his time perfecting his skills as well as testing himself against the Inquisiton's members. Abel was never certain why Leon indulged in such an activity, but he figured that everyone needed a hobby of some sort. Stepping outside, Abel squinted in the bright sun light, and he renewed his casual vow to get sun glasses if at all possible before he left for Nachtstadt. 

 

“I swear, the sun is getting brighter with each passing mission,” huffed Abel, shaking his head as he tried to shade his eyes from the too bright light.

 

“You are just hanging out in the dark night too much any more,” soothed Catarina. “Stat working during the day again, and you will get use to the bright and evil day star again.” He snorted at her silliness while she giggled at the disgruntled expression in his face. He was resisting the urge to shift into his Crusnik form and find a corner to sun his wings in because that was practically guaranteed to bring the Inquisition down on him. Yet because he had been using those abilities so much on the missions any more, he found the instincts from his Crusnik side stronger. It was becoming harder to not give in and just enjoy the simple things such as the sun on his wings.

 

“Father Leon!” Catarina shouted, distracting Abel from his potentially dangerous thoughts, and the silver haired man focused on his surroundings to find Catarina waving at the Spaniard who had been lounging against a tree, watching the Inquisition soldiers beat up on each other with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. Leon straightened from his slouch and walked over to join them, giving Abel time to study his friend and co-worker. Leon was looking less exhausted than he had been, and Abel wondered if all of the Department of Foreign Affairs was on stand down because there was not any new information, or because they needed the rest before they all collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Abel would have to ask Catarina what the truth was and how long she thought the down time was going to last. 

 

“I see you finally woke up, Sleeping Beauty,” Leon teased as he stopped in front of them. “I thought you were going to sleep the rest of the week out.”

 

Abel shook his head. “I had not intended on sleeping quite so long,” he confessed. “I can not remember a time when I ever had slept so long before. I certainly hope that the Hell's Hit List is almost completely rounded up.”

 

“If we could land von Lohengrin then a lot of our problems will fade away,” Leon sighed, shaking his head. “He is the last highly dangerous person on the list itself.”

 

“Well, you are coming to lunch with us so we can discuss things *other* than missions for a while,” Catarina requested, giving Leon a look that said he had better go along with that story with so many ears around. 

 

Chuckling, Leon gave Catarina a sweeping bow that nearly had his dark curls brushing the grass. “As you command, my gorgeous sunshine lady,” he purred before taking her other arm. 

 

Catarina sniffed and handed the folder to Abel before she dropped it. “Mind your manners and no flirting until dessert,” she instructed, giving Leon another long look that only sent the Spaniard into laughter. Abel smiled at the joyful sound and he felt more of his tension slip away, loosening the tight muscles in his shoulders. 

 

As they walked through the Vatican, Leon and Catarina chatted about various bits of gossip, who said what and who was seeing whom in the library stacks over volumes of questionable content. It was peaceful and above all normal information that could be received from any of the people who worked and lived in and around the Vatican. Nothing that was life threatening or a threat to the tentative peace that currently existed between the nations. It was nice, and Abel was very thankful for the distraction as it helped him continue calming down after that last mission. It seemed like any more he barely had a chance to rest before he was being sent out on another mission. He absently nodded, firmly deciding to beg Catarina for the next three weeks off.

 

The restaurant that Catarina lead them to was a very nice family style place where private rooms could be rented for a fee by the hour. Catarina smiled at the host and asked for a private room for the next three hours, causing Abel to look at her in confusion. What could she possibly want to talk about that would take three hours? Even a thorough debriefing of the usual missions only took one with all the questions she asked for verification and clarification of matters. The man lead them back to a room that was built with thick walls and a table large enough for six people to comfortably sit around it while still spreading whatever they had to across the surface without it getting in the way of their food. The walls were painted a soft robin's egg blue with sage green trim on the furniture, giving the whole dining room a relaxing feel. A button was next to one seat, and Abel knew that would signal the waiter when they were ready for his services either in bringing refills of drinks or their food orders.

 

“Please send the waiter in for our orders,” Catarina announced as she sat in the seat with the button, and the host bowed as he left, assuring her their waiter would be with them within minutes. Catarina pulled her hat off and tossed it over in a corner as she got comfortable and she waved Leon and Abel over to the other chairs. “Sit down and get comfortable. Think of this as a time to relax while we work on various things.”

 

Chuckling, Abel shrugged out of his cassock and draped it across a chair before sinking into the seat to Catarina's left. He placed the folder he had been carrying on the table between them. “You just want an excuse to not wear that ridiculous hat for a while.”

 

“It is not ridiculous!” Catarina protested, but there was a huge grin on her face. She turned her nose up at Abel. “It is a status of my office and one I wear with great dignity.”

 

“It is large, annoying, and you wear it to antagonize Francesco with the thought of what you are hiding in there,” drawled Abel, resting his chin on his hand with a smirk towards the blonde woman. Catarina snorted and threw a napkin at the silver haired man who batted it away playfully while Leon laughed at their antics. It was then that the waiter walked in, and he paused at their laughter the uncertain look on his face doubting his welcome into the room. Catarina waved the waiter in and proceeded to order a great deal of food and drinks for them before dismissing the waiter. The man promised to bring their order as quickly as possible before he vanished.

 

Catarina shook her head as she pulled the file over to her. “People like that make me wonder about their lives if something as simple as laughter can make them pause in the course of their duties.”

 

There was a knock on the door, and the waiter entered long enough to put their drinks on the table with the appetizers before leaving again. Abel did not wait for an invitation but started nibbling on the stuffed potato skins as Catarina sorted through the papers from the folder. He ate slowly, enjoying the taste of the food for the first time since this whole crazy mess with Hell's Hit List had started.

 

“Abel, you should know that if you do not return to the Vatican after Nachtstadt and the Peace Treaty signing, Leon has agreed to become my second in command,” Catarina began, nodding at the Spaniard who was relaxing back in his chair with a glass of wine. “However, the Pro Bono request is that the position will always be available to you should you ever decide to come back to the Vatican as a member of the Department of Foreign Affairs.”

 

That got a surprised look from Abel directed at Leon. “I confess that I am surprised at such a request from you, Leon.”

 

The Spaniard grinned at the silver haired man. “I do not want you to think that you do not have a place with us, my friend. After all, you are the one who brought us all together to make such a kick ass team.”

 

“All I did was offer all of you a job. You are the ones who made yourselves into the kick ass team,” Abel protested with a small grin.

 

“Regardless of who did what, the fact remains that even when you are not working for or at the Vatican, you will always have a position ready for you should you decide to return,” Catarina stated, a small smile on her face. She folded her hands on top of the folder and looked at Abel. “Things have been arranged for the Nachtstadt trip. Everyone is coming here and we will be traveling together in plain clothes instead of any fancy finery. However, I would like for you to arrange both the tickets from Rome to Nachtstadt and our rooms for the time we are there.”

 

Sighing, Abel looked at Catarina, his face serious. “You are asking me to go to Nachtstadt in my cassock to arrange everything,” he clarified, and the blonde woman nodded, a regretful look on her face. He shook his head and poured himself a glass of wine, sitting back in his chair as he cradled the glass in his hand. Unlike Leon who wrapped his fingers around the glass itself, partially holding it by the thin stem, Abel curled his finger under the bottom of the glass, treating it as if it were a brandy sniffer instead of a wine glass. “Who do you wish to have accompany you as part of the Vatican party?”

 

“Father Leon will be my third,” Catarina stated, and Abel looked at her with a raised brow. “After you have secured our rooms, you are free to begin your vacation. Once the peace treaty has been signed, I will hope you have reached a decision on if you will be staying with the Vatican or retiring to live your life in peace, enjoying what you helped bring about.”

 

“At that time, you will have my decision,” Abel agreed, taking a sip of his wine. He fell silent as there was yet another quick rap on the door before the waiter entered with the food. The waiter did not even look at the papers on the table except to ensure he was not placing any food on them before he bowed to them, announcing that if they required anything further they simply had to ring for him, and he left again.

 

“Who will all be coming to this signing?” Abel inquired as he started dishing up a plate of food. That was another nice thing about this restaurant. All of the food was served in platter styles that allowed a customer to take as much or as little as he wanted while sampling various different dishes.

 

“Myself, Alex, and Leon of course,' Catarina began, nibbling on the garlic bread. “The Empress is bringing Seth Nightlord and Astharoche Asran while Queen Victoria is bringing her granddaughter and her captain of the guards.”

 

Unable to help it, Abel started to chuckle. “Then let us hope Esther enjoys this visit to Nachtstadt much more than her last one.” He glanced at Catarina to find her smirking. “I never did ask. What was her punishment for disobeying your order to not follow me?”

 

“I had her writing lines for a start, and then she had to clean out the dove coops,” Catarina remarked with casual gesture. “However the dove coops were occupied at the time so it was rather difficult for her to get them completely clean.” She chuckled. “It seemed fitting since she could not sit anyway that she put that energy into other more useful chores.”

 

Leon laughed. “That would explain why she was sulking still days later,” he said, shaking his head. “What did you do to her, Father Four Eyes?”

 

“Treated her like the spoiled brat she was acting like,” Abel remarked with a small smile. “Tres came to collect her while I was turning her butt as red as her hair.” He glanced at both of them before chuckling. “I am probably ruining the surprise, but you should both know that the Empress will be traveling incognito while her body double will be posing as the Empress.” He looked at both of them before taking a sip of his wine. “And Seth Nightlord is my sister by adoption.”

 

Stunned looks appeared on both of his friends' faces as they stared at him. “The Empress is your sister by adoption?” breathed Catarina, her voice hushed as she leaned forward. Abel grinned and nodded, glad they both managed to get the hints he had dropped.

 

Leon let out a low whistle as he sat back in his chair. “And why are you working for the Vatican instead of living in the Empire with your sister?”

 

Abel shrugged a shoulder. “Because a little blonde girl ran across my path one day, and I promised to help her.” He smiled at Catarina and raised his glass in a toast to her. “And she grew up into a stunning young woman whose dream is about to become a reality.”

 

“Well most of it,” Catarina remarked with a smile and a shrug. “The Peace Treaty may almost be a reality, but there is no way to wipe out the discrimination and distrust between the Methuselahs and the humans.” She chuckled and looked at both of them. “Yes, I am greedy enough to want true peace between the races.”

 

“Give it time and it may happen, Catarina,” Abel soothed with a pat on her hand. “It may not happen in your life time, but it will happen some day.”

 

Catarina nodded and smiled at him before turning her attention back to her folder. “Well, with your last mission, another five terrorists have been incarcerated from the list, leaving only about a dozen left including von Lohengrin.” She offered both of them a wry grin. “If I ask for von Lohengrin for Christmas, think I will have a chance at finding him under my tree with a bow around his neck and handcuffs around his wrists?”

 

“We shall do everything in our power to see if that is possible, most radiant of beauties,” Leon purred, leaning forward with a flirtatious smirk for Catarina. It earned him a laugh and a blush from Catarina, and Abel watched them with a small smile. He would not object should Leon become serious in his romantic pursuit of Catarina. It would be interesting to watch from a distance if that was actually going to happen. Abel knew that Catarina would be highly cherished and loved by Leon if the two of them did end up falling in love with each other.

 

“When should I be expected to leave for Nachtstadt?” Abel inquired, interrupting the romantic moment as was his right as Catarina's guardian for two decades. He smirked at Leon as the Spaniard sent a dirty look the silver haired man's way, and Abel only smirked in response as he relaxed back in his chair. The food had been demolished in between topics and now all that was left was the excellent drink and the enjoyment to relax.

 

“In two days,” Catarina replied after a long drink of wine, but the blush in her cheeks did not diminish any. “We will be coming out the following day, and I hope that this tight time table will not give anyone the chance to attempt something against any of the royal parties.”

 

Abel snorted and looked at Catarina. “I believe I trained you too well for anyone to get the jump on you without regretting it for the rest of their very short lives, and if Seth has forgotten any of her skills, I am an idiot,” he drawled, leveling a gaze at the blonde woman. It was one of the things he had insisted she learn while growing up his ward, that she learn how to take care of herself in any situation. He had taught her how to shoot a gun, pick a lock, where to secure a knife that no one ever checked on a woman for, how to hot wire a car – and had not her guardian been very upset about that particular skill when it came to the car in his garage – and the more sensitive places on a person, both male and female, to hit for the most damage.

 

Catarina had the good graces to blush and duck her head, but there was a satisfied smile on her face, and Abel took that to mean that she had not let any of her skills deteriorate. He knew that before the missions, he had been dragging her out into the training yard to continue teaching her hand to hand combat as well as a few weapons, improvised and regular weapons.

 

He was about to continue his questioning of the peace treaty mission as he was starting to call it in his mind when the door opened. He turned to dismiss the waiter when his brain caught up with his eyes, and he realized that was not the waiter standing in the doorway. The man was pale, thin, and twitchy with large eyes filled with desperation and a very large gun in his hands that he was pointing at all of them, and Abel silently cursed himself for sitting so close to the other two. With a barrel that size on that gun, it was difficult to tell exactly who the man was aiming at.

 

“Your dream of peace will die here!” snarled the man, the gun wavering slightly, and in the second that the man's bulging eyes were fixed on Catarina, Abel acted. Shifting in a heartbeat to his Crusnik form, Abel lunged across the table at the gunman, one hand curling around the barrel as he forced the gun to point firmly at himself. He knew he could take a bullet and survive with nothing more than a slight ache until the bullet was removed from his body, but the other two were more breakable and a bullet of that size at this range would lead to a possible fatal injury.

 

The gun jumped in Abel's hand as one of the bullets discharged from the massive barrel, and Abel grunted as the metal slug punched him in the stomach. There was a slight trickle of blood but Abel felt the skin quickly knit itself back up again. A quick fist to the chin, and the gunman crumpled to the ground unconscious. Abel shivered as he carefully placed the gun on the table, making sure the now crumpled barrel did not point towards anyone before he sank into a chair and shifted back into his human form. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Abel looked up into Catarina's concerned face, and he managed to pull up a smile for her. 

 

“It appears that somehow the plans for the Peace Treaty have been leaked to the various terrorists,” he mused, grimacing slightly as he put a hand over the hole in his clothes. The fabric was slightly damp and he could feel the lump of metal that was the bullet under his skin. He would have to see the Professor to get that removed before he left for Nachtstadt. “I believe the most logical thing would be to move up the plans. It will be safer there for everyone involved.”

 

“How can it be safer, Abel?” Leon asked, looking up from where he was securing the gunman for transportation back to the Vatican. “I mean, they will all be together and can protect each other, but how is Nachtstadt more safe than say having it at the Vatican?”

 

“Because Nachtstadt is a small village where everyone knows each other,” Abel pointed out with a small smile. “You will have three weeks to discuss the details of the peace treaty before signing it, and if anyone new shows up in town early, then everyone will know and be talking about them. Then, at the end of those three weeks, you will be able to celebrate the signing of the peace treaty by going to the revel.”

 

“Then I suppose you will be heading back to the Vatican immediately to pack for your trip,” Catarina murmured before she bent down and kissed Abel on the mouth. “Be careful, Abel Nightroad.”

 

“You as well, Catarina,” Abel replied with a small smile. “I will head out as soon as possible as well as contact Seth and possibly the Queen of Albion, let them know about the change of plans. Leon, you buy tickets for Nachtstadt when everyone arrives because I will feel better at all of you traveling in a group.” He looked at Catarina. “Do not let Brother Petros use this as an excuse to join the party. I can guarantee that there will be a hostile greeting in the village if he shows up, and there will not be anything that I will be able to do to calm them down.”

 

Catarina nodded. “I will slip him a Mickey if I have to.” She grinned even though the expression did not reach her eyes. “You taught me how to mix one up, remember?”

 

Abel chuckled and stood up. “I shall see you both in Nachtstadt,” he murmured before kissing Catarina's lips.

 

“Hey! Where is my kiss?” Leon teased with a grin. Abel chuckled and turned, curling a hand behind the Spaniard's head to pull him closer. Abel kissed him, a light teasing nip at those lips just to see how Leon would react. He was a bit surprised at the soft moan, but Abel released Leon with a grin and a wink. There was a flushed look to Leon's face, and Abel whirled around to leave the restaurant for the Vatican after scooping up his cassock from the chair where it had been draped.

 

Outside, the silver haired man's hand came up to touch the earclips he wore, and Sister Kate Scott appeared before Abel as the priest started hurrying down the road, trying to shrug into the cassock at the same time. It took a bit of doing, but he managed to get his cassock on, doing his best to ignore how the blood moved from his shirt to the black material. “How may I help you, Father Abel?”

 

“I need you to open a direct channel to the Imperial Palace through the Satellite code named Hermes,” Abel announced, ignoring the surprised look on the holographic nun's face. “The access code is Red Mars Project 345265 voice recognition Commander Abel Nightroad.”

 

Sister Kate tilted her head before she smiled. “The channel is open,” she said before fading to be replaced in Abel's heads up display located in his glasses by the image of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Augusta Vradica, sitting on her throne.

 

“Seth, we have a problem,” Abel stated in Old Russian, ignoring the usual pleasantries as he dodged around people and the occasional cart on his hurry to the Vatican. “Terrorists have discovered the generalities of the Peace Treaty, and Catarina is making her way back to the Vatican to remove Alex from the threat. How soon can you get to Rome for the train to Nachtstadt?”

 

There was a huff from the young looking Empress as she folded her arms across her chest. “A pleasure to see you too, Abel,” she drawled before manipulating a few things on her throne. “I can pick Astha up on my way through, and we can be in Rome by early tomorrow morning, or we can just meet you in Nachtstadt.”

 

“Negative,” warned Abel, dancing around a stopped mule hitched to a cart. “If the terrorists see you actually flying into the village, they will know for sure that all three of you are there, but if you come by train and in civilian clothing, they will not know you have arrived. Plus if you come to the Vatican first, they will hopefully assume that their attack forced all of you to reschedule the peace treaty conference for the Vatican instead of Nachtstadt while you will use the underground tunnels to get out of the Vatican and to the train station without anyone noticing all of you.” He himself would have to find a faster way to Nachtstadt instead of the trains to ensure everything was prepared and ready for the arrival of the nobles. “I will be contacting the Queen of Albion to make sure that she also comes to the Vatican sooner so that all three of you will be making the trip together so that you can protect each other as well as arrive together.”

 

“I hate it when you make sense,” Seth sighed, shaking her head but there was an amused smile on her face.

 

Abel chuckled, slightly out of breath. “That is why I was in charge of security and you were in charge of medical,” he drawled, but his voice was teasing. Seth stuck her tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry at him before her image vanished from his glasses. Scooping up his cassock in his hands, Abel started running faster, knowing he was on a time limit now and the clock was ticking in the back of his mind.

 

“Sister Kate, connect to the royal palace of Albion,” Abel ordered, feeling slightly out of breath. “The same satellite Hermes and the access code is Red Mars Project 345265 voice recognition Commander Abel Nightroad.”

 

Sister Kate reappeared but this time only on his head's up device and she tilted her head as she started accessing the satellite again before she smiled and announced that he was now connected to Buckingham Palace in Albion. An unfamiliar face appeared in his heads up display, and the man frowned as he regarded Abel with a suspicious look on his handsome face. “Who are you and why are you using this channel?”

 

“My name is father Abel Nightroad and I am with the department of foreign Affairs. I must speak with Queen Victoria immediately,” Abel said as he quickly flashed his identification at the guards at the gate of the Vatican as he raced inside. Neither one of the guards even blinked at the sight of the silver haired man racing into the Vatican with slightly bloody cassock and Abel dashed around various nuns and priests as he moved farther into the large complex. 

 

“I do not care who you work for, priest, but you will not be speaking to her Royal Majesty without any appointment,” sniffed the man, and Abel started growling as he dashed into his bedroom and he moved towards his wardrobe, needing to pack as quickly as possible. 

 

“It is imperative that I speak with Queen Victoria as it is about her trip in a few days,” Abel growled. “Now either put me on with her or you will get to explain to your countrymen why the Iron Maiden is flying over Londinium as the ship comes there to pick up Her Royal Majesty.” 

 

The man huffed and there was a click before the connection was severed, and Abel let out a string of swear words that would have turned the air blue and made any sailor worth his salt blush dark red. “Sister Kate, open the connection to satellite Hermes using the following code, Alpha Alpha Gamma Epsilon Five Seven One Three Omega.”

 

Sister Kate nodded her head and there was a bit of static as the old emergency channel was opened directly into the room where the Queen of Albion was currently and there was no way for any minion to disconnect this call. Abel quickly moved down the hallway towards the rooms of Father William Walter Wordsworth, the man that was better known as the Professor and who could dig the bullet that was still rattling around in the silver haired man's stomach. He briefly rapped on the door to the Professor's rooms to let the man know he was there before he opened the door to enter before he was invited in. “William, sorry to disturb you, but I have a bullet that needs to be removed from my stomach immediately.”

 

The Albion priest blinked up at Abel from behind his desk where a large book was lying open on the surface before he shook his head, apparently to clear out whatever thoughts were crowding in his mind at the time and he rose from behind the desk to get his surgical equipment. “What happened and when were you shot?”

 

“About fifteen maybe twenty minutes ago, and terrorists have discovered the plans for the peace treaty meeting,” Abel stated, opening the cassock and shirt enough for William to get at where he had been injured as the blood stained skin was a good indication of where the bullet was residing.

 

A face appeared in Abel's head's up display, and Abel managed a smile for the older woman with the silver hair that was staring at him. “Greetings Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt call, but apparently some terrorist have discovered that there is a peace treaty in the works and they have already attacked Cardinal Sforza in an attempt at ending it.”

 

“Who are you, young man, and how exactly did you get access to this particular channel?” inquired the Queen of Albion with a raised brow.

 

Abel chuckled as he stretched backwards across the Professor's desk, allowing his clothes to gape open to expose his bloodied skin. “My name is Father Abel Nightroad and I'm with the Department of Foreign Affairs, Your Majesty. You and your party for the peace treaty signing will have to be evacuated to the Vatican where you will meet up with both the Vatican party and the Imperial party for the trip by train to Nachtstadt.”

 

“Why should we not just arrive at the village in question?” inquired the Queen as Abel closed his eyes when he saw the Professor approaching with his bag of surgical tools. Just because William Walter Wordsworth had been kicked out of college for an explosion that was not his fault did not mean that the man's skills had wasted away even if he had turned his attention to robotic technology instead of the human body especially since he was the only one trusted with the health of Abel and that of Tres Inques, an android “Killing Doll”.

 

“Because, speaking from a terrorist perspective, that would be expected since they already know you were going to the village originally,” Abel replied as he just barely managed to not grit his teeth at the feel of a sharp scalpel slowly cutting into his skin. Abel would have loved to have a drug to numb the pain but there was nothing he could take or be injected with that would work well enough to last through the entire surgery as he had a bad habit of metabolizing any drug rather quickly. “However, when your group arrives at the Vatican, they will hopefully assume that the peace treaty meeting has been moved here, and by the time they learn differently, everyone will be securely situated in Nachtstadt and as the village is rather small itself, it will be difficult for new people to arrive without being noticed and commented on.'

 

“Very wise, Father Nightroad,' murmured the queen, and Abel could hear the admiration in her voice. “I can gather you would prefer it if we were to wear street clothes between the Vatican and Nachtstadt, acting as if we were simply a family or friends heading to a vacation spot?”

 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Abel remarked, a sigh of relief slipping out of him as he felt William removing that pesky piece of irritating metal from his body and he almost seemed to melt against the top of the desk as the deliberate injury started knitting itself closed again. He opened his eyes to regard the older matriarch again.  “It would be the easiest way to keep the terrorists or whoever has targeted the peace treaty from realizing who you were while on the train itself.”

 

The Queen of Albion inclined her head as she thought for a few moments. “I believe I will have to exchange my captain of the guards for someone a bit less noticeable,” she murmured before turning to someone to her side. “Have Commodore Norrington sent to me immediately.” She turned her attention back to the silver haired priest. “Is there anything else I should know Father Nightroad?”

 

“Yes. I will be going ahead to Nachtstadt to secure the royal parties rooms at the Lonely Widow Inn and Tavern, and once that has been accomplished, I will be on my vacation for the rest of the month,” Abel stated as he slowly sat up. “Your party and the Vatican party will be the only full humans in the village and if you chose to go to it, at the revel as well.”

 

“So that is where I know you from,” the queen murmured before chuckling. “We will have much to discuss in the village when we arrive, Father Nightroad. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance.” 

 

“Until then, Your Majesty,” Abel said with a chuckle before he disconnected the signal and he reached up to remove his glasses as he looked at William. “I will keep my glasses and earclips with me at all times if some emergency comes up, but I will not be wearing my glasses all the time.”

 

William nodded and offered Abel a pack of warm blood which the silver haired man accepted with a delighted purr. The Professor always had some Methuselah blood for Abel whenever the silver haired man was injured because nothing helped him heal faster. “I will let Her Eminence know as well as that all parties have been alerted to the change of plans.”

 

Abel nodded and he tossed the empty plastic bag into the trash can once he had drained it dry. “I need to throw a few things into my bag before I find another faster way to Nachtstadt. I will see if there is a bus that is heading that way unless I want to hire a car, but that will be a last ditch effort.”

 

“Take care, Abel. The terrorists are starting to get extremely desperate now,' William warned. “If they get any hint that there will be easy targets for them, they will not hesitate to go after the royal parties.”

 

“I know, William,” Abel sighed, shaking his head before he turned and offered his hand to the Albion priest. “You take care of yourself and try not to blow yourself up so often.”

 

That earned Abel a curious look from the Professor. “You are acting like I will not see you again once you leave here.”

 

“There is a possibility of that happening,” Abel confessed with a shrug. “I have not decided if I am going to return to the Vatican after the Peace Treaty is signed or not as my promise to Catarina will be fulfilled and I find myself extremely weary of all the fighting and missions from the past twenty years.”

 

Nodding, William shook Abel's hand before pulling him into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, Abel Nightroad, and if you do not return, I hope you will write often.”

 

“I shall try, William,” Abel murmured before grinning at the man as he slipped out of the office. He turned and raced for his quarters, knowing he would not have time to pack very much, but he could always buy what he needed in Nachtstadt from one of the shops there or he did not find what he wanted there, he could continue on into Vienna to shop. He ignored the startled looks that followed him as he ran through the hallways, and he never noticed the large armored figure that followed him through the stone halls.

 

Reaching his room, Abel burst through the door and he quickly dragged out his suitcase out from under his bed where it had gotten kicked after it was emptied when his last mission was completed. Tossing the open suitcase on the bed, he dashed into the bathroom to grab his hairbrush and deodorant. He would pick up everything else he needed in the village but he knew the Lonely Widow supplied its guests small bars of soap and small bottles of shampoo. Should he need more, he would buy some. When he left the bathroom, he paused in surprise to find Brother Petros standing there, watching Abel with unreadable eyes.   
  
“Is there something you need, Brother Petros?” inquired Abel as he dropped the two items into the suitcase before turning to open his wardrobe. He would take his military robe and outfit with him as well as a couple changes of clothes but his original plans for buying more clothes for his vacation had been interrupted by the attack on Catarina in the restaurant. “If so, speak quickly because I am in a dreadful hurry.'

 

“Why are you in such a rush?” demanded Brother Petros, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as Abel dumped the blue trimmed white robe in his suitcase. It was going to be highly rumpled but a long hot shower with the robe hanging in the bathroom would help steam out the worst of the wrinkles. 

 

“Because I am,' Abel growled, not wanting to get into the discussion and argument that was sure to follow about the Pope's safety if he told Brother Petros that there had been an attack on Catarina in an effort to stop the peace treaty signing. He grabbed his boots, tossing them into the suitcase as well before grabbing a pair of jeans, his black pants, and the black turtleneck that went with the military robe. Those also got dumped into the suitcase before a few more shirts, socks and underwear was quickly rounded up and dumped in with the rest of his clothes. Snapping the suitcase shut, he picked it up by the handle and turned, snarling when he saw Brother Petros blocking his way out of the room. “If you want to know why, talk to Cardinal Sforza. Now move before I move you.”

 

The man's eyes widened at the threat, or maybe some of Abel's Crusnik side was showing through in his eyes, but whatever the reason, the armored man moved to one side, allowing Abel to race past him with his bag in one hand. Shaking his head at the idiocy of the Inquisition soldiers, Abel ran through the hallways once more as he made his way through the sprawling complex to burst out of a side gate closest to the bus station. Racing like a mad man, he managed to make his way through the streets of Rome without knocking anyone down during his wild flight through the streets. He was only slightly out of breath when he stumbled up to the ticket counter, and he tried to give the person behind the counter a reassuring smile but he felt that the smile was rather weak for what he intended.

 

“One ticket to Vienna please,' Abel requested, fishing the money out of his cassock, and he handed it to the startled woman behind the counter. “Forgive my hurry but my sister has fallen ill and I wish to be by her side as quickly as possible. The doctor fears that she may not be long for this world.” It was a simple lie to explain his urgency and one that was believable because it was so simple.

 

The woman smiled and nodded her head, not bothering to reply as she wrote up the ticket and she exchanged the ticket for the correct amount of money. “Do not worry, father. The bus will get you there very quickly with only a brief stop at a village outside of Vienna to exchange buses and give all of the passengers a brief rest.”

 

That was what he had hoped for, not wanting to let anyone know he wanted to go to that little village so he could quickly slip away to Nachtstadt. He did not want *anyone* to know that his final destination was Nachtstadt because that would start people questioning if the peace treaty signing was going to be at the original destination instead of at the Vatican where he was trying to draw all the eyes of anyone who wanted to stop the signing f the peace treaty. Accepting his ticket, Abel thanked the girl behind the counter before grabbing his bag and hurrying aboard the bus, settling in a seat a few seconds before the bus started up and left on its long trip to Vienna.

 

***

 

Her Royal Highness, Queen Victoria of Albion was packing very common clothes in a bag while one of her maids was preparing a royal gown and jewels for the trip to the Vatican. She could admit that the priest, father Abel Nightroad, had seemed a bit familiar when he had contacted her about the change of plans for the peace treaty signing, but she had not bothered to question it at the time, realizing the sense of urgency in his voice. His plan to misdirect any terrorist to the Vatican was a solid one, and Victoria looked forward to getting to know the young priest better during this trip.

 

There was a polite knock on the door and a young man entered with a bow. “You wished to speak to me, Your Majesty?”

 

“Why did you not immediately transfer the call from the Vatican to me?” inquired Victoria, not bothering to look at the man as she folded a slip and placed it on the soft cotton dress. The man sputtered behind her, and she turned, fixing him with cold blue eyes and a raised brow. “Well? I am waiting for an answer.”

 

“He had no reason to be using that channel and had no appointment to speak to you,” sniffed the man in a superior tone. “I was simply doing my job at keeping the riff raff out of Your Majesty's hair and from wasting your valuable time.”

 

Victoria hummed and nodded. “You are dismissed from your position, Mr. Farmsworth,” she stated, turning back to her packing. The man sputtered even more and continued to stand there before she glanced at him over her shoulder. “You wish to add something, Mr. Farmsworth?”

 

“It was *just* an insolent priest, Your Majesty!” protested the man, his eyes wide and his face red with fury. 

 

She whirled and glared at him with all the weight of her throne behind her gaze, and he shrank back as if she had physically slapped him. “Did it not occur to you that a call from the Vatican, no matter who was placing it on behalf of that organization, may have been important? Perhaps there had been an important change to the planned trip that I and my granddaughter will be going on or there was the sighting of a terrorist that was needed to be passed along so that we would be better prepared.”

 

The man was making small squeaking noises as his face trained to an ash white as Victoria stalked towards him. “Now, as you have endangered Our life and that of Our family, you will be escorted out of the palace never to return upon pains of death. You have betrayed Our faith in you and the authority that We have placed in your hands.” She snapped her fingers and two guards entered the room to grab the whimpering man by the arms and they dragged him out of the room and the palace. Shaking her head, Victoria turned back to her packing as her maid closed the lid on the trunk, sealing the coronet and the royal dresses away from prying eyes. What was it about certain individuals that had to take matters into their own hands and that they believed they knew what was right for everyone else?

 

There was another quiet knock on her door and Victoria called out for the person to enter, having a good idea who it was, and when her granddaughter walked into the room through the door, Victoria smiled at her. “Good afternoon, my dear. Did you get the change of plans?”

 

“Yes, I did, grandmother,” Esther Blanchet stated with a quick curtsey. “Do you know why the plans for the peace treaty have been changed at the last minute?”

 

Victoria nodded and threw a glance at her maid who quickly curtseyed and left the two royal ladies alone together. “Yes. Father Nightroad of the Vatican changed the plans as there had been an attack on Cardinal Sforza a few hours ago while they were having dinner with Father de Asturia as they spoke about the trip itself. It was deemed by Father Nightroad that there was enough of a threat to each of the parties that the original plans had to be scrapped and new ones had to be done on the fly.” She chuckled and turned back to close her suitcase. “He will never change, but I suppose that is a good thing.”

 

“You have met Father Nightroad before?” inquired Esther, and Victoria turned to her granddaughter to find her blue eyes wide with surprise.

 

Victoria nodded a small smile on her face as she thought about that encounter. “It was when I was much younger, nearly your age in fact, that I first met Abel Nightroad. He was not a priest at the time of our meeting but I am sure he joined the Vatican sometime later. But there was rumors of an attack against the royal family and none of us were aloud out of our rooms without a guard. Well, the guard assigned to me was this stuffy old man by the name of Henderson.” Victoria shivered at the memory of that old man and laughed softly. “To a young woman, he was horrid. All stuffy, proper, and he smelled like cabbage and he would not let me do anything that I thought was fun. I could not explore the castle, I could not go outside into the garden, and heaven forbid I wish to go and visit a friend.”

 

“What did you do, Grandmother?” inquired Esther, the tone of her voice a bit touched with disbelief that the grand old matron before her could ever have been as young as Esther herself.

 

The older queen chuckled and moved her suitcase onto her trunk before latching the two of them together. “I decided that rules or no rules, guard or no guard, I was going to go out and have fun without a stuffy, cabbage smelling guard standing over me and telling me what I could or could not do.”

 

She sighed, a touch wistful and a touch regretful. “So that evening, I snuck out of the palace, using an old servant's entrance and wearing common clothing. With my blond hair tucked up under a scarf, I looked like any other person out on the street and I hardly resembled a royal in any way so I thought I was safe from any pesky threats and very safe from any cabbage smelling guards.” She shook her head. “Only the people behind the threat were waiting for an opportunity like that and without realizing it, I picked up a tail in the form of a very nasty man who was planning on grabbing me and probably doing some very nasty things to me. He followed me towards a park where I wanted just a bit of time to myself and when I finally noticed him, we were halfway through the very deserted park. I admit I was not very graceful or polite when I suddenly hiked my skirts nearly to my waist and started racing across the park, screaming my fool head off as I tried to get away from him.”

 

“What happened?' asked Esther, and Victoria turned to find her granddaughter enthralled by the story she was telling.

 

“An angel came down from the heavens to save a foolish girl,” Victoria sighed in a slightly sappy way before she laughed at the look of near awe on Esther's face. “Or at least I thought so at the time. All I really knew was that I had managed to trip on the one rock in that entire park and I fell to the ground with a badly twisted ankle. The man decided to draw out his apprehension of me and he was slowly walking over to me with this ugly look on his face when this man came down from the sky on wings of raven feathers. The man apparently did not see the angel as he continued to advance on me, but he was certainly aware of him a few moments later when the angel simply spun him around to meet his fist and the man crumpled like a sack of flour.”

 

She chuckled and shook her head slightly, remembering her own foolish thoughts at the time. “When the angel approached me, I thought he was going to take me to heaven for a serious scolding, and when I asked him how much trouble I was in with Jesus and God, he gave me this funny look and asked what I was talking about. When I explained my thoughts, he laughed and explained that he was not an angel but he was not human. I asked if he was a Methuselah and if so, what was he doing out of the Ghetto, which was another place I had not been allowed to go to, he told me that I was the only human in the garden but he was not a Methuselah. He politely introduced himself as Abel Nightroad before offering me a hand to my feet.”

 

A thoughtful look crossed Victoria's face as she remembered something about that encounter. “He never did tell me what he was.” She shook her head and brushed the thought aside. “He picked me up when I told him my ankle hurt, and he grabbed the man who had been stalking me and he flew us both back to the palace.” She shook her head again, this time her laugh was more humorous. “I certainly got a talking to when I was brought back. I do not believe there was that much yelling in the palace since Great-Grandmother Elizabeth was found in the stable with the very attractive stable boy at the tender age of sixteen. Mother was alternating sobbing on my shoulder at the close call I had and screaming at me for doing such a foolish thing while Father was standing there, glaring at me for pulling such a silly stunt while thanking Mr. Nightroad for rescuing me. Father offered him any number of rewards, a title, land, money, jewels, but each time, Mr. Nightroad listed someone or something that would require that reward more than he would and for better reasons than rescuing a silly, hard headed princess.”

 

“What happened then?” asked Esther, repeating herself for the third time, but her voice was soft as if she did not want to break the spell that the story had woven around them.

 

Victoria shrugged and moved back to her trunk and suitcase to see if she had forgotten anything. She snapped her fingers and moved over to her dresser, pulling out a key on a chain from around her neck and she unlocked the top drawer, pulling it open to reveal daggers of various sizes and shapes. With sure hands, she started securing the daggers in various bits of her clothing. “My father stated that if I was going to take my life in my own hands, I was going to have the skills to defend that life and to ensure my enemies and killers regret killing me every day for the rest of their lives no matter how short that was.”   
  


She slid one last wicked looking dagger in her boot and stood up, brushing her skirt back into place with a grandmotherly smile and not a weapon showing where she had placed them. “Shall we get going, my dear? We have a long trip to the Vatican.”

***

Catarina growled as she glared at the man in armor who was standing in her private rooms. He was being stubborn and in a few seconds, she was going to take that oversized weapon of his and shove it up his ass to replace the redwood she was going to knock out of him. Brother Petros of the Inquisition was standing there with a stubborn look on his face that indicated that he was not about to bulge on the stance he had declared when he had found entrance into her rooms, and frankly, Catarina was tired of kowtowing to the so-called superior and deadly Inquisition.

 

“I am sorry, but I must have misheard you, Brother Petros,” she stated, her words clipped as she folded her arms over her chest and she was practically daring him to repeat what he had just told her.

 

“I cannot in good consciouse allow you to take His Holiness out of the Vatican with only yourself and a single priest for protection,” rumbled Brother Petros, his eyes narrowing at her stubbornness. “There is too much danger for such a small expodition, no matter how well trained Father de Asturia is.”

 

Which also meant that he believed that Catarina herself did not have any defensive training when it came to protecting herself and that just burned. Especially since Abel himself had made sure she was able to defend herself from anyone who tried for her, be it Methuselah or human. She might not be as strong as some of the others, but she fought dirty and was nnot above using any trick she could to take down whatever opponent she might be facing.She drew herself up to her full height and spun on a heel, very glad that she had already changed into her civillan clothes for the trip complete with various armaments that Abel had trained her to carry whenever she was wearing something other than her Cardinal robes. For that giant red outfit, she had other weapons that were secured about her clothing in places that no one would ever think to search her to find them.

 

“Very well. Then come,” she ordered, marching from her rooms and she glanced over her shoulder once to make sure Brother Petros was following her before she marched down to the training field. She wold be showing everyone exactly what she was capable of but it would be worth it to have Brother Petros eating crow. She ignored the startled looks that were following them, mostly at the sight of Cardinal Sforza in a pair of jeans and armored boots with a button down shirt, but the blond woman ignored them with practiced ease. After all, she was a society lady, and she had been dealing with strange looks and whispers behind her back since she was old enough to know what those meant.

 

Outside, the sun was still shining despite a gray tint in the distance that stated there was rain approaching, and Catarina, pulled a kerchif out of her back pocket and she tied her large curls back in a tail, making sure that her hair was out of her way and it would not impeed her actions any. Her sure steps, even while her hands were behind her head to fuss with her hair, did not falter any and within moments, Catarina was standing on the edge of the training field. It was really nothing more than a large expanse of grass with training dummies and weapons racks set up along side one of the distant walls of the Vatican, and there were some wooden benches that were placed near another so-called side of the training field to allow those who required it a place to rest or even just a place to sit and observe for the curious. It was often filled with members of the Inquisition who were trying to sharpen their current skills or learn new ones from each other, and occasionally, some members of the Department of Foreign Affairs would be out there on the green grass, testing themselves against each other.

 

“Gentlemen,” called Catarina, getting the attention of all of the Inquisition members that were training against one another. “I have a point to make with Brother Petros, so if I may ask your indulgence and request that we have the training field until my point has been made?”

 

The various men glanced at each other in confusion before looking at Brother Petros who was standing near Catarina with his usual scowl on his face. Catarina did not look back at Petros as the men moved to the edges of the training field and Catarina casually wandered towards the center before she turned to look at Petros.

 

“Brother Petros, since you doubt I have the skills to protect myself let alone anyone in my company, please feel free to prove me wrong when I say that I can take you down, armor, weapon, and all,” catarina drawled, standing there with an arrogant look on her face as she glared at the Head of the Inquisition. “The only thing I will ask is a restraint from extreme injuries or crippling injuries. I do have an appointment to keep and I can not affoard to be laid up while any injuries heal.”

 

The blue haired man in armor snorted as he hefted his lance in his hand. “I will take it easy on you, Your Eminence, but if you are hurt, remember that you are the one that requested this.”

 

She laughed, a full throaty laugh that echoed over the field. “Remember those words when we are done and you are defeated, Brother Petros,” she remarked before attacking without any further warning. Rushing towards the larger man, Catarina smirked as he bit out a swear before he moved his lance to block her charge, but she did the unexpected as Abel had taught her. Letting the slippery grass add to her momentum, Catarina dropped to the ground and slid through Petros’ legs as one hand whipped out a knife from the top of her boots, and she slashed the inside of his thigh as she slid between his legs. Her blade easily bit through the strap high on his thigh that was holding his leg grieve on, and she made sure that the tip of the blade left a red line behind on his skin, the blood already beading from the injury as she turned her slide into a roll to get clear of the man’s body even as she used the action to return to her feet. 

 

Not giving Petros a chance to recover, She spun, her foor lashing out to kick the back of his knee with her armored boots – and thank God Abel had shown her how effective armored boots and steel toes were during training – and she let a small smile curl her lips when the large man grunted in pain and collapsed to his knees, his lance spinning out of his hands. Grabbing his hair, she yanked back on his head while shoving her knee into the small of his back and she placed the edge of her knife at his throat, making sure to put just enough pressure that he could feel the sharpness of the metal without accidentally cutting his skin.

 

“You were saying about my ability to protect myself and those in my company, Brother Petros?” Catarina inquired, her voice casual even as she looked down at the man who was eyeing her out of the corner of his eye. She was tense, ready for whatever action he was going to try to keep from showing that he went down so easily,  and she waited for a few moments before adding a few thoughts. “That cut to your leg could have easily gone into the muscle instead of scratching the skin or the blade could have gone up a bit higher and you would have been singing soprano when I cut your balls off, but I thought a scratch would be a better score marker.”

 

“You have proven your abilities, Your Eminence,” Brother Petros admitted in a slow voice, and Catarina had to wonder what it was costing the armored man to confess that much about her and her abilities. After all, Francesco would not hesitate to use this unladylike behavior against her somehow. “You are more than capable of defending yourself and any who might travel with you.”

 

Nodding once, Catarina pulled the knife away from Brother Petros’ neck and quickly backed away out of arm’s reach of the man. Just because he admitted his defeat did not mean that she was going to trust him at the minute. It would be too easy to start the battle again when her guard was lowered, but she was not going to lower her guard until she was back in her rooms, finishing her packing. She continued to hold her knife in a sure and ready grip as she watched Brother Petros slowly rise to his feet when she heard the sounds of running feet behind her.

 

Instinctively, Catarina spun and crounced down, a second knife appearing in her other hand and she lashed out with her knives as she spun again to the side, the edges screeching off of the leg guards the Inquisition man wore before they slicked deeply into the leather holding the grieves on as well as cutting deeply into the flesh beneath. The man cried out in surprise as he collasped to the ground, his legs bleeding heavily and Catarina absently noted that he would have to get medical attention soon or risk bleeding to death. Then she did not have any more time to think as four more members of the Inquisition rushed her and she was too busy defending herself to actively think about anything more.

 

She managed to twist out of the way of the lance shoved in her face but she could not get completely clear of the fist that drove the air from her lungs. With an oof, she staggered to her knees and the men above her jeered at their victory before her knives flickered in her hands again. One of the man cried out in urprise as she buried the knife blade in his hand, forcing him to drop his weapon, and she lost that knife when he jerked his hand away, but she was already pulling a second knife out of her boot. She managed to jump past the Inquisition man she had just injured before the other three could close ranks on her and that gave her more room to move as needed. She was going to ensure that these four remembered this lesson for a very long time.

 

The next few minutes passed in a blur of dodging, twisting, flashing knives, and one very elegant and unexpected twisting leap over one man’s head. By the time the last man fell to the ground with a pained whimper, clutching his groin where the iron clad toe of Catarina’s boot had found a home, there was quite an audience gathered around the training field. Slowly, Catarina looked around at everyone gathered there, and she was pleasantly surprised to find her AX agents standing between her and the Inquisition members that were there with hard looks on their faces and weapons in their hands. Tres had both of his guns pointed at two different Inquisition men, Father Hugue de Watteau was staring at his possible opponent impassively with his sword partially unsheathed in his hands, Leon was absently twirling one of his teethed throwing bracelets around a finger with an almost animalistic grin on his face making him resemble his namesake even more, and even William was cradling a shotgun in his hands, puffing away at his pipe as he calmly waited for the armored men to make the first move. It warmed her heart to know that her people were loyal enough to take on the other department at no urgings from her, and she had to wonder if the Department of the Inquisition was just as loyal to Francesco or if her half-brother could only inspire fanatic loyalty to a cause.

 

“I trust we will not have any more interruptions, gentlemen,” Catarina remarked, glaring at the Inquisition soldiers even as she stood there, her knives still at the ready to defend herself from any more attacks. She was still riding high on the adrenalyn of the unexpected attack and she knew that she was going to be hurting from the various blows that got through her defenses , but at least no one had managed to give her a black eye. A bruise on her cheek from a lucky backhand, but no black eye. She really did not want to explain to Abel what had happened or that she had let a blow connect when he had trained her better than that. Although, he had not trained her against multiple opponents since it was normally the two of them or her against another AX member so Abel could judge her skills.

 

When no one moved, Catarina turned and fixed Brother Petros with a firm stare. “I did not kill any of your men, but they may wish they were dead until they heal,” she stated, noticing that the first man she had cut had already been moved from the field. Probably into the infirmary to be treated before he bled to death. “Of course, they may hold a grudge at being beaten by a mere woman.”

 

Brother Petros snorted and shook his head. “They will be punished for their cowardly attack of you, Your Eminemce. The Inquisition does not attack from behind. There is more honor in facing your enemy and letting them know you are coming than trying to stab someone in the back without looking them in the eye.” He walked over and stood in front of her, his dark eyes running over her before he bowed to her, low and honorable. “Your skill is without question to any of the Inquisition. Should any ever ask me of your skill, I will tell them exactly how you defeated myself within seconds and four of my men within minutes.”

 

Catarina blinked in surprise at the admission from the proud man, but she sheathed her knives and offered a small bow back. “I thank you for the compliment, Brother Petros, and I will pass along your words to my teacher.”

 

The blue haired man straightened before reaching for the knife at his belt, and catarina tensed before she realized he was just unfastening the sheath from his belt. He held it out to her with both hands. “To replace the one that was broken during your fight.”

 

She realized that Brother Petros was offering her more than just a knife. He was offering her the respect of one warrior to another and with a small smile and bow, she accepted the knife, attaching it to the waist of her pants. “My thanks, Brother Petros.”

 

Straightening, she glanced at the blue haired man with a slight tilt of her head. “If you will excuse me, I have to finish packing.”

 

She turned on a hell and walked towards her people who were still facing off against the Inquisition soldiers and a simple request for her men to follow her had the four men lowering their weapons and falling into an escort position around her as they left the training ground and the impressed people behind them. When she walked into the cooler shadow of the Vatican’s main building, she stumbled as the adrenalyn started wearing off, and there were suddenly strong arms scooping her up. She blinked in surprise and automatically wound her arms around Hugue’s neck as he easily carried her to her rooms.

 

“Thank you all for watching my back,” Catarina remarked as Hugue carried her into her rooms and he placed her on one of the chairs there. She grimaced as her body started protesting the punishment she had put on it, but it had been worth it.

 

“That is what we are for, Your Eminence. We are your people,” Hughue remarked as William started bustling around her, checking for serious injuries. 

 

Leon looked at Hugue. “Sworddancer, stand guard on the door in the hallway. Gunslinger, go see if His Holiness is packed for the trip already. If he is not, wait with him while he packs and then escort him back here.”

 

Hugues inclined his head and moved out into the hallway while Tres voiced his acceptance of the orders and left as well. Leon glanced at Catarina, and he smirked at the surprise on her face that she was unable to hide at this time. “You stay here with the Professor who will guard you in here while I am away. I am going to grab my bag and then I wll guard you in your rooms while you pack. For now, rest and let the Professor tend you.”

 

Before she could say anything, Leon had slipped out of the room with a nod to Hugues before he closed the door behind him. Catarina could only shake her head but she hissed and winced as a sudden pain flared through her skull. Gentle hands cupped her face and turned her towards William’s warm brown eyes.

 

“Easy there. You took a nice blow to the head and that back hand with that gauntlet could not have helped you any,” soothed William, looking into her eyes. “Not concussed, but definitely rattled your brains a bit.”

 

“I was not expecing the other four to attack me like that,” Catarina remarked in a rueful tone. “I am just glad I was not injured worse by any of them. It would be hard to explain to Abel why I had a black eye or was on crutches.”

 

William chuckled as he pressed a pair of aspirine tablets into one hand before curling her other hand around a glass of water. “Take it easy on the trip and let Leon guard you and Alessandro until you reach Nachtstads. Otherwise, your head will not get better.”

 

She easily swallowed the aspirine tablets before pushing herself to her feet. “Well, I do have to change my clothes because I can hardly meet anyone in these dirty things,” she sighed, gesturing to the grass stained jeans and the slightly ripped shirt from where one of the men managed to grab the material, popping most of the buttons off. She moved over to her bed and started pulling the various knives and daggers out of her clothes, laying them on the bed so that she would be able to return them to their hiding spots when she was dressed once more in clean clothing. With practiced ease, she managed to ignore the Professor’s presence as she casually stripped out of her clothes, hissing slightly as bruised muscles protested the movement, and she dug into her suitcase to pull out a fresh pair of jeans and a new shirt.  She had gotten use to changing when a man was in the room soon after Abel had become her guardian angel because he would not let her out of his sight for the first several months after he rescued her from assassins. Catarina had to admit that she prefered the time when she could see him and she knew he was close because then she knew that there was no danger from the shadowy assassin her mind created whenever she was alone for too long.

 

The blonde woman was just buttoning up her shirt when the door opened to admit two people, and Catarina smiled over her shoulder at Alessandro. The young man was a bit pale and he was clutching his bag as if it was his last link to sanity, but a lot of the tension drained out of his shoulders when he spotted Catarina near her bed. A few seconds later, the door opened again and this time it was Leon entering with his suitcase in his hands. He nodded at Tres who immediately took up a guard position by the windows, and Leon put his bag down next to his feet as he waited for everyone to finish.

 

“What is the hurry, Catarina?” Alessandro asked, his gray eyes wide with a touch of fear, and Catarina was glad the young man had finally dropped the habit of referring to her and Francesco as ‘sister’ and ‘brother’. She had simply teased him in a humorous way to get him to call her Catarina instead of sister because it mae her feel like she should be clothed in a blue trimmed white habit.

 

“It has been a tense four hours, Your Holiness,” sighed Catarina as she started replacing her various daggers and knives in her clothing again. “Some terrorist has gotten word leaked to them that we are attempting to meet with Albion and the Empire to create and sign a Peace Treaty and one attacked Father Nightroad, Father de Asturia and myself in the resteraunt where we were having lunch.”

 

“Is everyone all right?” Alessandro asked, his voice filled with concern as he turned to look at Leon as if searching him for a visible injury.

 

“Everyone is fine,” Catarina soothed with a small smile. “However the attack prompted us to move the schedules up. Father Nightroad has gone ahead to Nachtstadt to secure rooms for everyone while the Albion and the Imperial parties will be meeting up with us here. Then all of us will change into cilivillian clothing for the trip to Nachtstadt as we will be posing as either a strange family or a group of friends who are traveling to Vienna but getting off at the village.”

 

Alessandro shook his head. “There is more to this than just that. After all, you told me yourself about the change of plans when you came back from lunch about an hour ago.”

 

Sighing, Catarina bowed her head in acknowledgement of her half-brother’s words. “Brother Petros had some doubts over my ability to protect you with only Father de Asturia along on the trip, and I was not about to budge and allow a member of the Inquisition in to the group that would be meeting for the Peace Treaty as many of those that live in the village are the sort that the Inquisition would not hesitate to persucute. So, I challenged him after taking him out to the training field.”

 

A small, proud smile curled her lips as she slid her last knife into her boot and she stood, turning to face her brother. “I bested him within a few seconds but obvously a few of his Inquisition members took exception to that and the four of them attacked me.” She held her arms out to indicate her faintly injured state. “As you can see, I did more damage to them than they managed to do to me.”

 

Alessandro smiled and relaxed even more. “At least I know I will be in wonderful hands between you and Fater de Asturia should anything happen on the trip.”

 

Unable to help it, Catarina laughed. “From your mouth to God’s ear, Your Holiness.”

 

***


	5. Adam's Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Prince Adam sick with a rare disease, Eternia turns to its lost princess to protect it from Skeletor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is actually based around this scene. In one episode, Hordak is berating his minions, stating that they're the best Horde Science has created, and that got me wondering about Adora. Just what IS a Horde Force Captain?

Standing on the balcony that overlooked the training yard, Adora leaned against the stone wall and stared at nothing as she thought. Adam was going to get better, but he had a long way to go, and every day spent here was one more day away from Etheria and the fight going on there. It was also a risk that Hordak would discover that she wasn't there. Or more precisely, She-Ra wasn't there to help the Rebellion. That could lead to a serious problem for the Rebellion if they weren't able to keep the Horde at bay. But, as long as Adam was sick, Eternia needed She-Ra to counter whatever trouble Skeletor decided to cause since Adam couldn't become He-Man.

 

“Maybe Mother can help me figure out what to do,” she sighed, shaking her head. Adam had told her that their mother had hinted more than once that she knew that He-Man and Adam were the same person, and Adora was willing to bet their father knew or suspected as well.

 

“There you are, Princess,” called a voice behind her, and Adora straightened as she turned to find Teela walking towards her, a determined look on her face. The red haired captain of the guard stopped a few feet away and folded her arms as she stared at Adora. “Time for training. Let's go.”

 

“I don't understand. What training?” Adora asked, partially confused and a lot amused. Did Teela believe her to be helpless or just unskilled? There had not been any mention of training or even practicing when she'd arrived, even though everyone had been rather concerned about Adam's health. “No one said anything about training.”

 

Teela snorted. “It's my responsibility to make sure that all members of the royal family are protected. This means training the younger members to be able to take care of themselves.” A small smirk curled her lips, and Adora raised a brow, wondering what the smirk was about. “And unlike Adam, I'm not going to give you a chance to slack off.” Teela turned on her heel and walked off, calling back over her shoulder. “I expect to see you down in the training yard in ten minutes, and I _ don't _ want to come hunting for you.”

 

If she had been a little less trained, Adora would have educated Teela right then and there on the finer points of swearing from the Horde barracks. She curled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms ans she did her best to reign in her temper. It was not Teela's fault that she thought Adora was untrained. The blonde never bothered to spar against anyone when she was on Eternia because she came here to _ relax _  from the fighting she did on an almost daily basis some months. She could understand that Teela was a bit on edge because of Adam's illness, they all were for various reasons, but if the captain of the royal guard thought that she was going to take that stress out on Adora just because the redhead had never seen her fight before, then Teela had another thing coming. A small smirk curled Adora's lips. “I wonder how badly I should hurt her ego?”

 

“There is an action on Earth,” mused Queen Marlena's voice and Adora glanced over to find her mother walking towards her, amusement on her face. “It's where you stop hiding your talents in a way that you deem appropriate to show up someone else, sometimes with a negative outcome. It's called 'showing your ass'.”

 

“Do you think I should?” inquired Adora as Queen Marlena leaned on the wall next to her. “I don't want to make her an enemy, but I'm no more helpless than you are.”

 

“Teela has this small habit of seeing only what she wishes to see in a person,” sighed Marlena, running a finger over the stones. “It is how Adam has managed to fool her into believing he is a lazy coward with no interest in fighting at all.”

 

“So because I've never openly practiced my skills here, she believes I'm helpless and unskilled in the art of fighting?” drawled Adroa with a small snort and a shake of her head. “I believe it is time to show the Captain of the Royal Guard what a Horde Force Captain is capable of.”

 

Queen Marlena smiled and kissed Adora's cheek. “Make an entrance and keep going. I would like to see your skills as well if you don't mind your old mother watching.”

 

Adora laughed. “You are not old, Mother.” She tilted her head. “Older than me, but not old.”

 

“Princess!” Teela's voice rang out from the training yard below, and both mother and daughter looked down to find Teela glaring up at them with a sword in her hand. “I do not want to waste my time dragging you to your lessons.”

 

“If you will excuse me, Mother, I believe it is time to show my ass,” mused Adora, her face perfectly polite before she turned to walk away. She stopped just before she entered the palace, wheeled on a foot, and ran towards the wall surrounding the balcony. Just before she hit it, Adora threw herself forward, planted her hands on top of the wall, and flipped over to fall to the ground. It was only a dozen feet. She had fallen farther with no injuries beyond bruises during her training at the Fright Zone. Queen Marlena didn't attempt to stop her or even make any noise of surprise, and that told Adora that her mother knew a _ lot _ more than what she let on.

 

Hitting the ground, Adora rolled forward, letting the impact bleed out in the motion even as she drew her sword from her back sheath. In one smooth motion, she rose to her feet in front of Teela and attacked the captain without a single word of warning. Teela yelped in surprise and fell back a few steps under Adora's onslaught before she narrowed her eyes and managed to get over her surprise. Within a few seconds, Teela was matching Adora, blow for blow. Adora allowed Teela to start guiding the fight, analyzing the other woman's fighting style and watching for the patterns that fighters usually ended up falling into out of habit. IN a few minutes, Adora saw her opening and took it. Spinning with her swing, she lashes out with a leg, and Teela grunted, falling to the ground from the force of Adora's kick impacting her abdomen. Teela's sword clattered out of her hand, and Adora stood over Teela, her own sword pointed at the red head's throat.

 

“Again, Captain,” ordered Adora, not even breathing heavy as she gestured to Teela's sword with the tip of her own. She stepped back a few feet and waited for Teela to scoop up her fallen sword before attacking her again. It was very easy, almost _ too _ easy to slip back into the mindset of a Horde Force Captain, and one of Hordak's best. In a way, it scared her to slip so easily like that, and yet there was a small part of her that reveled in being the strong one that others were afraid of. There were not many who could understand that and even fewer that would enjoy such a feeling.

 

For over an hour, Adora fought Teela as the two danced around the training yard. The others had long since cleared off to give the two of them room as swords clashed again and again. A few of the guards were cheering Teela on while the rest were watching with quiet respect as they ringed the field. Adora only paid then a sparing thought, almost all of her attention focused on Teela, who was badly sweating at that time. Deciding to take pity on the captain of the guard, Adora hooked Teela's sword before spinning it out of her hand. Guards ducked as the blade flew through the air to imbed itself in a practice dummy behind them. Teela attempted to sweep Adora's legs out from under her, but the blonde princess twisted, lunged and ended up behind Teela, one arm twisted behind the redhead's back while Adora's sword rested across her throat.

 

“Congratulations, Captain, you've just become a prisoner of the Horde,” Adora drawled, and Teela stiffened in her arms, more out of surprise than shock. “Just because I don't train while I'm here does not mean I can't fight. There were half a dozen times when we were sparring just now that I could have ended your life.” She released Teela and turned to take the rag offered by one of the guards with a smile and a nod. Firmly shoving the Force Captain back into a small box in her mind, Adora turned her attention to her sword, wiping it down with the rag more out of respect for what the blade stood for than to actually take care of it. The Sword of Protection never needed sharpening nor were there any dings to smooth out, but it was relaxing to oil down the mystical blade after a fight.

 

“Why didn't you _ tell _ me you could fight?” demanded Teela, storming over to Adora with her own battered practice blade in her hands where she had retrieved it from the dummy. “I wouldn't have insisted you learn if I knew.”

 

“Did you ever ask?” inquired Adora, sliding her sword into the sheath across her back as she absently tossed her shoulder length blond hair to keep it from getting trapped by the sword. “No. You just assumed that because I don't train anywhere you can see that I don't know how to fight.” She shook her head. “Never assume someone can't fight until you see them in action. Even a farmer can pick up a pitchfork to defend his property and family. He may not be a trained fighter, but he will still be just as dangerous.”

 

“Just how trained are you?” demanded Teela, tossing her blade onto a pile of nearly ruined swords with a clang. “Not even Adam can best me in a fight.”

 

Turning, Adora looked at Teela, blue eyes meeting green. “Before He-Man rescued me from the Horde, I held the position of Force Captain and was one of Hordak's best,” Adora stated, her voice completely serious with no sign of pride or boasting that had once been there. “I was never handed anything on a silver platter. I _ worked _ for each promotion and the work that came with it.” She foded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “Rather ingenious of Hordak to push me so far actually.”

 

“What do you mean, Adora?” King Randor asked as he, Queen Marlena, and Man-at-Arms joined them in the practice yard.

 

“If Hordak had invaded Eternia with me at the head of his army, would you have fought, risking the chance that I might be seriously injured or even killed, or would you have surrendered to keep me safe?” Adora asked him, hating the thought, but it was one she had after Adam had brought her back to meet them for the first time.

 

King Randor paled as Queen Marlena covered her mouth in shock, but the king reached out to cup Adora's cheek. “It would be a hard choice, my daughter or my people, and I'm not sure I would have been able to make it.”

 

“I am glad you will never have to make it,” Adora said before turning back to Teela. “There are still many places on Etheria I can't go without people running from me in _ fear _ . Even if I show up with the entire Rebellion at my side, I would still be shunned and feared for my role when I helped the Horde conquer Etheria. That is the power of a Force Captain.”

 

It was one of the reasons why Adora guarded the secret of She-Ra so carefully among the Rebellion. The people of Etheria looked up to the Princess of Power, and she knew it would hurt so many if they found out that the former Force Captain was She-Ra. The betrayal alone would cause many to lose hope, possibly even speculate that the Rebellion was just another form of the Horde.

 


	6. Demons and Gods Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Kamigami No Asobi/Trinity Blood crossover where the Garden and Academy are recreated to help Abel who is suffering from PTSD. But can the various gods help someone who only sees this place as a prison?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as an excuse to throw Abel at the Kamigami No Asobi boys, and it grew into a monster from there.

Sitting at the bar, Seth frowned at the glass of bourbon that was sitting innocently in front of her. The latest report on Abel from her spies had her very worried about her brother, and it was her inability to think of a solution that head her to this quiet bar to glare at her drink. She hated the feeling of helplessness that always filled her when she couldn't help Abel with the demons that dogged his heels since Armageddon, but she was a medical doctor not a mental one. Putting the mind back together was much more difficult and tricky than patching a body back up.

 

“The problem is that I know he has plans on top of plans,” she muttered to her glass, ignoring the people who sat on either side of her. The bar wasn't that crowded for a Friday night, but the limited space meant that people were finding any space they could to sit down. Seth just ignored them as she tried to talk her way through the problems surrounding Abel to get her own thoughts straight. Maybe a plan of some sort would appear to her then. “But if he falls into that abyss he's slowly sliding towards, I doubt anyone could stop him.” She sighed, picking up her glass and feeling every one of her years. “Least of all me.” That was her main problem right there, because she had always been closer to Abel than either Cain or Lilith, and Seth sincerely doubted that if Abel slipped into madness, she would be unable to raise her hand against him, even to save her people.

 

She threw back her drink as the man beside her chuckled. “If you want, I could take your mind off your troubles for the night,” he said in a deep, smooth voice that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She looked over at him to find a bearded blond with golden eyes giving her what probably was a charming smile, but she only wondered what it was about her that attracted the creeps when she wasn't feeling attractive at all. “Or perhaps even longer.”

 

Seth snorted and put her glass on the bar to resist the urge to throw it at him. She amended the 'creep' to 'married creep' when she caught the slight scent of perfume from his clothes. “First, I'm not into married men. Second, even if I was, I'm not into blonds.”

 

The man looked surprised for a moment before tossing her another smile as his hair changed from blond to brunet. “Is this better, my love?”

 

“I'm not your love,” drawled Seth, putting as much sarcasm in her voice as possible as she glared at the man, “And you're still married.” She dropped some money on the bar to cover her tab before sliding off her stool. Looks like she was going to be calling it an early night due to the infestation of Jerkus Maleus.

 

A hand caught her arm, and she slowly turned her head to glare at the man, her green eyes bleeding to solid red as she allowed her Crusnik abilities to surface just enough to warn the idiot off. “You do not have permission to touch me, mortal. Remove your hand before I remove it for you.”

 

All the noise died in the bar as everyone turned to look at them, and Seth continued to glare at the man as she mentally counted down from thirty to give herself time to calm down before she did something she might regret. Like tear his head from his shoulders. An intelligent person would have let go of her and backed off with an apology, but this guy continued to grin at her as if enough smiling would sway her to his point of view.

 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Seth reached the end of her count, and she grabbed his hand. Twisting, she heaved the idiot over her shoulder, and she briefly sent a prayer of thanks to Persephone for the extra foot of height she had gained that made this move much easier. The man yelped as he flew through the air, and Seth smiled tightly as he made a very satisfying crash against the far wall. She straightened, brushing the wrinkles out of her blouse as he crumpled to the floor.

 

“Welcome to the Empire,” she drawled, a superior look on her face. “Where _ no _ means _ no _ and _ get lost _ means just that.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder as she started towards the door. “Might want to remember that if you want to keep your limbs in tact.”

 

“Foolish girl,” sneered the man as he climbed to his feet, and Seth fell into a defensive stance as she noticed the metal staff in his hand. That certainly hadn't been there before, and he straightened, an aura of power surrounding him. “I am Zeus! King of the Gods, and you should feel blessed that I chose you for my attention this night!”

 

Zeus, huh? Seth could definitely appeal to a higher power here, and she stood with her arms raised in supplication. This would either work or she's have to beat up the idiot to get him to leave her alone. It was a good thing she enjoyed the classic literature that had survived Armageddon, or she might be a bit lost in how to properly address the Queen of the Gods.

 

“Oh Great White-Armed Hera, Queen of the Gods, hear my plea,” Seth called, and she took a bit of satisfaction in the fact that the self-proclaimed King of the Gods turned pale at her words. “Please reign in your husband before I rip his balls off with my nails.” Probably not the most elegant of appeals, but she wasn't feeling very gracious at the moment.

 

Laughter rang through the air as a woman materialized in front of Seth, and she couldn't help the bolt of lust that shot through her at the sight of the very classy looking woman. Peacock green silk was wrapped around generous curves and brown hair was elegantly styled up in a twist with two peacock eyes clipped to the side.

 

“Would you truly attempt to castrate the King of the Gods?” the woman asked with an amused smile.

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Seth replied with polite bow. “It may not be permanent, but I'm willing to bet it would be uncomfortable as they grew back.” She glared at Zeus who was starting to shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Besides, I have bigger problems than fighting off someone who wants to get into my pants when I'm not interested.”

 

Hera looked at Seth, blue eyes searching her face. “You are the first mortal to turn down the affections of my husband,” mused the goddess with a thoughtful tilt of her head. “Why did you?”

 

“The main reason is that he's married,” Seth stated with a shrug. “I don't poach, even one looking for a one night affair.”

 

“And the other reasons?” prompted Hera, a look of surprise on her face.

 

“My brother is having problems that I don't know how to fix,” Seth answered with a glare towards Zeus. “And unlike some people, such problems tend to quench my libido.”

 

Hera was silent for a few minutes as she stared at Seth before she nodded. “Come. We shall discuss your brother in a more private location.”

 

“I am at your leisure, Your Majesty,” Seth announced with a polite bow. As she straightened, she found herself in her private quarters at the Imperial Palace, and she shook her head as she gestured to a sofa. “Please, have a seat. I only have water to offer as a refreshment, but I can ask the kitchen to send something up if you wish.” She wasn't quite sure what she could offer them in the way of food, but she would try as a polite hostess.

 

“I am fine with water, child,” Hera said, gracefully sitting on the sofa as if she was claiming a throne. Zeus grumbled in the background but accepted the glass of water when it was offered. Seth absently noticed that he was blond again as she took a seat across from Hera with her own glass of water.

 

“My brother by adoption is Abel Nightroad,” Seth ban, focusing on Hera as she spoke. “We are the last to Crusniks alive, and I think that may be part of the problem.”

 

Zeus leered at Seth. “I would be more than happy to help populate your species.”

 

Seth didn't even acknowledge his words as she continued speaking. “It has been fifty years since he lost his last human ally to old age, and in that time, he's been drifting and unable to find a safe place to deal with the issues that he's been ignoring for over a millennia. I have offered him a home here in the Empire, but he claims that this is my home not his. Only the humans fear and hate what he is, forcing him to keep moving every few years if not sooner if something happens that forces him to shift into his Crusnik form. In Methuselah territories, he is sneered at for appearing as a human, and again he is forced to move much sooner to avoid trouble.”

 

“Other than unable to find a safe home, what other problems does your brother suffer from?” asked Hera, a curious look on her face.

 

Seth began ticking the points off on her fingers. “Nightmares, loss of appetite, hyperactive threat assessment, and PTSD from what I can see in the reports from my spies.” She shook her head. “I'm afraid that an innocent will accidentally be hurt, and that will absolutely destroy him.”

 

A tear ran down her face, and she angrily wiped it away. “Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't want to face my only brother across a field of battle and destruction and know that I have to stop him even if it means both of our deaths.” She shook her head again. “I don't know that I could kill him to save this planet and all of these selfish people who can't look beyond outward appearances to see what a gentle and kind person he is.”

 

“It sounds as if you have some problems of your own,” Hera mused, and Seth looked up at the goddess in surprise. She supposed she did, but she hadn't had any more time to deal with them than Abel had. She did at least have a steady home and some security where she didn't have to wonder and worry about where she was going to sleep next or even where her next meal was going to come from.

 

Hera looked at Seth for several minutes before nodding. “For respecting the bonds of marriage and calling upon me when Zeus attempted to threaten you, I will grant you a boon and help your brother. Many a warrior I have seen who were unable to leave the battlefield behind even when they sought the peace of death.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” gasped Seth, unable to stop the tears from running down her face. Finally a solution to Abel's problems because if anyone could help, it should be the gods themselves. Especially since there were so many who had a wide variety of specialties. “I may not be one of your traditional followers, but I would be happy to set up an altar to you.”

 

Hera rose to her feet and inclined her head. “I believe you sell yourself short, Eternal Mother,” She said with a slight smile before she vanished in a twinkling light.

 

Seth quickly looked around but found no trace of Zeus. Moving into her bedroom, she stripped out of her clothes before crawling into bed. As she pulled the covers up over her shoulders, she allowed herself to finally cry out the stress and worry for Abel that had been plaguing her for years.

 

@@@

 

Sauntering into the marble room, Loki yawned and stretched as if he hadn't a care in the world as he followed Balder and Thor. However, his eyes were flickering around and cataloging all possible exits in case this meeting went sour.

 

Zeus had sent word through Odin Allfather that he wanted to speak with them, and after the last time Loki had any dealings with the Greeks, he was understandably twitchy. It certainly didn't help his nerves when he saw who else was attending this little meeting as they stood around the front of the room near Zeus' throne. Stopping in the center of the room, Loki turned on a heel, grabbed Balder's arm, and started back out again, dragging his pale haired lover wtih him.

 

“Loki! What are you doing?” asked Balder, his blue eyes wide with surprise as Loki managed to get him a few feet closer to the door before Balder stopped letting himself be dragged.

 

“The last time we were together with that group at Zeus' insistence, we were rendered powerless, and I nearly lost you,” growled Loki, tugging Balder towards the door as he resisted the urge to simply pick up Balder, thrown him over his shoulder, and storm out. “There is _ nothing _ Zeus can say that will keep us here.”

 

“I will owe you a favor for your help.” Zeus' words stopped Loki, who looked back at Zeus with suspicious eyes. A favor owed by Zeus was something Loki could definitely use since the Greek God wasn't known for handing out such things, not even to his bastard mortal children.

 

Releasing Balder, Loki turned to face Zeus and folded his arms across his chest. “What's the catch to this favor?” There had to be a hook embedded in it because there was _ no way _ Zeus was giving them a string free favor.

 

Zeus closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. “No strings and no questions asked about the favor requested.”

 

“You have my attention,” drawled Loki even as he glared at the king of the Greek Gods. “But any funny stuff, and we're gone.” He was not going to lose Balder, not after how close he came the last time. He still had nightmares about watching his lover throw himself off the cliff to keep Loki from having to kill him.

 

“There won't be,” Hades stated from where he was partially concealed in the shadows. He tossed Loki an amused smirk. “Hera and Persephone are at the top of the chain for this one.”

 

That got a dirty look thrown at the God of the Underworld from Zeus, but little things were clicking in Loki's mind. Something had obviously happened so that Hera had caught Zeus with his pants down, probably literally, and it was enough for her to get him to promise these open favors in exchange for whatever task needed to be performed. It obviously hadn't been Zeus trying for Persephone or Hades would be angry instead of amused, but Loki couldn't figure out how Persephone fit into this. He'd have to ask Hades if Zeus didn't fess up.

 

“Right. What's so important that you're giving out favors?” drawled Loki with a smirk.

 

Zeus turned his glare on Loki as the Norse gods wandered over to join the others. “There is an individual on Earth who has the ability to plunge the mortals into a catastrophic war,”  he began, drawing all the attention back to himself once again, and Loki folded his arms while resisting the urge to tap his foot in impatience. Damn Zeus and his flair for dramatics. “He is a soldier, a warrior who has been unable to leave the battlefield behind, and he is slowly sliding towards a darkness that would urge him to implement his many plans.”

 

“So what do you expect us to do?” asked Takeru, the Japanese God of the Sea, as he glared up at Zeus. “Hold hands and sing about peace and love?”

 

Loki snickered at the thought of _ any _ of them singing love songs, especially the stern Thoth, Egyptian God of Wisdom and Many Other Things. That would wouldn't know light and fluffy if it smacked him on the butt and introduced itself. Balder must have picked up on what Loki was thinking because a sharp elbow was suddenly jabbed into his ribs. Loki coughed in a poor attempt to hide his laughter, but he had a feeling he wasn't that successful.

 

“The Garden and its Academy have been recreated,” Zeus announced, pulling the attention back to him. “He will be brought there, and he will learn from all of you how to leave the battle behind as you learned how to interact with humanity.”

 

“You still haven't told us who this person is,” stated Dionysus, the Greek God of Wine, as he leveled a finger at Zeus. “Frankly, I want to know _ before _ I agree to anything what sort of person you want to lock up with me in that place.”

 

Zeus lifted a blue glowing orb and tossed it onto the floor where it expanded until it was large enough to envelope Thoth, wings and all. “The Fates have supplied this so that you might have a better idea of your task.”

 

Loki frowned at the man that appeared in the orb. He had long silver hair pulled back into a tail, and he was wearing the black vestments of the Christian priest. Loki was silent as he watched the life of this strange priest. There was more to this than what they were seeing, there had to be, because this guy looked and acted like someone's gentle grandfather rather than someone who could launch the mortal realm into another devastating war. Sure, this guy used a gun, but that didn't mean anything, especially considering the tactics used by the thrice cursed Inquisition.

 

When the orb was done, Loki figured they had watched the abridged version of this priest's life, and the fact that they were missing a great deal grew. A quick glance at the others showed suspicious looks on their faces too, and when they glanced at him, he nodded in agreement. He had been set up far too often to fall for such a trick again. There was something about this whole mess that Zeus didn't want fixed, but Loki didn't have enough information to figure out what that was exactly. Did he have a vendetta against this priest and thus didn't want them to help him completely? Or were they to be the instruments of his downfall while Zeus shook his head, helplessly, while all the blame fell on them?

 

“How about showing them the _ rest _ of the story,” drawled a new voice, and Loki turned with the others to find a gorgeous young man dressed in a neat suit approaching them. His long blond hair was pulled back in a tidy tail, and a strange cape was draped over his shoulder. Behind him was what looked like the slightly darker version of the priest they had been watching with blond hair instead of silver, but there was an ugly sneer on his face. A chain lead from a metal collar around his neck to the new arrival's hand, and it was obvious that it wasn't a dominance and submissive relationship the two had.

 

The new arrival gave Hades and Anubis respectful nods, and Loki was starting to have a growing suspicion about this guy. It was quite possible this guy was another god of the dead considering his actions to the _ other _ two gods of the dead that were present, but he didn't look like anyone that Loki himself was familiar with.

 

“What do you mean, the rest of the story?” asked Thoth, his wings twitching as if he wanted to spread them to hide Anubis who had mostly retreated behind the winged god after returning the stranger's nod.

 

“It is quite simple, Lord Thoth,” stated the man with an elegant shrug. “Zeus hasn't given you the full identity of the one he wants you to help.”

 

“This matter doesn't concern you, Lucifer Morningstar!” growled Zeus, rising to his feet and pointing a crackling staff at the new arrival. “Return to whatever rock you have crawled out from under!”

 

Lucifer tisked, shaking his head. “This involves me quite a bit, actually,” he pointed out. “You see, the Crusniks are a bit of a pet project of mine.” He waved a hand and the image of the silver haired priest appeared before them again. “Especially Abel Nightroad, a former member of the now disbanded Arcanum Cella Ex Dono Dei of the Vatican.”

 

“You want us to help something that _ Ares _ had a hand in creating because he was bored one day?” Dionysus snarled, glaring at Zeus, and Loki watched as his hand clenched on the golden goblet that suddenly appeared in his hand, the wine inside bubbling with Dionysus' anger. “Neither favor nor family ties will get me to help with one of Ares' pet projects.”

 

“Then do you mind helping out hurry him along to my domain?” asked Lucifer, tossing a look at the God of Wine. “It will make seducing him progress much more smoothly if I'm not stuck visiting him in his dreams.” He shrugged a shoulder and waved his hand again. “Here is the rest of Master Nightroad's tale for those of you who might be interested.”

 

The image was replaced with more scenes from the priest's life, but this time they included the highs and lows. Occasionally the blond next to Lucifer appeared, at first as a friend and lover but later as an enemy a s the two clashed again and again. When the last of the mortal allies from the Vatican died, Nightroad began wandering, never staying in any one place for very long and often being chased off when someone discovered that he was something other than human.

 

A few times, Loki had to close his eyes to force down the lump in his throat. How many times had he himself been forced out of a place or situation simply because he was Jotun instead of Aesir and therefore something other than what was seen as normal? At least at the time, he had friends and allies in both Balder and Thor, but this Abel Nightroad appeared to be completely alone against a world that hated and feared him. Hands fell on his shoulders, and he looked up to find Balder and Thor both offering him silent support. In their eyes, he could see that they wanted to help this Crusnik, and Loki nodded, silently agreeing to help this lost one.

  
No one deserved to be hunted just because they were differen


	7. Demons and Gods part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the previous chapter. It's in parts though so don't feel bad if two scenes next to each other don't make sense.

The sun was warm on his skin, and Abel hummed softly, shifting to curl farther around his pack even as a persistent rock dug into his ribs. He couldn’t remember where he was aside from outside, but he knew he couldn’t stay there long. There had been a fire at the last village, and he had been blamed for it because he had been the only new person in town. The residents didn’t care that he was innocent, only that he was available, and he ran once more, losing the last of his clean clothes. At least he had managed to hang onto his bag which had his few prized possessions in it even if said bag was looking more than a little ragged. As much as he wanted to just lay in the warm sunlight for a while and rest, he knew he had to get going if he was going to find something to eat. Maybe he would be lucky and find a rabbit to cook up.

 

Opening his eyes, Abel frowned as he sat up, ignoring the aches and complains from his tired body as he looked around. He was in some sort of courtyard with white stone arches surrounding the grassy area and windows looked down from up above. This was most certainly  _ not _ where he had fallen asleep, and the fact that someone was able to move him, even as tired as he was, meant that it was very likely that whomever had brought him here, wherever  _ here _ was, wasn’t a friend. He had never had anyone who was a friend suddenly kidnap him or even manage to keep him asleep when they attempted such a thing for a surprise party.

 

He climbed to his feet, arms curled protectively around his bag, and he nearly fell on his face when his tattered pants suddenly slid off his hips. He knew he had lost weight due to the infrequent meals, but his pants hadn’t been that loose before. Carefully, he put his bag by his feet before tugging his pants back up and tightening the rope belt he had been using to keep them up in the first place. When he went to pick up his bag again, he frowned at his hands, turning them over as he examined them. They looked smaller than what he was use to seeing, fingers not as long and not as callused as they had been. Moving over to the nearest window, he looked into the darkened glass to find a face he hadn’t seen in centuries staring back at him. Somehow, he had deaged to look fifteen instead of looking almost thirty.

 

The best thing he could do at the moment would be to find whomever had brought him here, find out how they had deaged him, and why they had brought him to this strange place. Better to look human for now and shift to his Crusnik form as needed. 

 

On silent feet, he made his way through the strange building, ducking into unused rooms whenever someone came down the hallway and only emerging once the coast was clear once more. Once, he ducked into what looked like a an empty classroom, but why would anyone bring him to a school? Especially a school with other people. Unless whomever had brought him here hoped to use the people there as hostage for whatever they wanted from Abel or even against his good behavior. Well, he had learned to twist and interpret orders until they resembled a Gordian knot without endangering anyone. 

 

He eased open a double door, cautiously peeking around the corner to find himself looking at a large hallway with a double row of marble pillars leading up to a sweeping staircase as a gold trimmed red rug ran the down the stairs and out the door at the far end. A blond man in a red and white and holding a staff stood near the top of the stairs while other people were gathered around the bottom, apparently waiting for something. Abel amended that to someone as everyone turned to look at him, expectantly, and he carefully eased into the room, taking notice of the exits in case he had to run or fight. The room was certainly high enough for him to employ his wings if it came to that.

 

“We have been waiting for you to join us, Abel Nightroad,” announced the blond man on the stairs, causing Abel to twitch just slightly even as he slowly walked over to them, and he looked at the others standing there. All but three of them appeared to be around fifteen while the one with long auburn hair appeared to be in his mid twenties. The final two, a dark haired man with garnet red eyes and the one with pale hair and a monocle looked to be in their thirties. The later was leaning against a column with a an utterly bored look on his face, but there was something highly attractive about him in Abel’s eyes. He forcefully pushed those thoughts down as he focused on the blond on the stairs as the man started talking again.

 

“You have been brought here to learn,” the man continued, walking a bit farther down the stairs. “Like these gods, you have drifted away from humanity, but like them, you will learn once more about humans including about their love.”

 

It was all Abel could do to not burst out in laughter at that declaration. Oh, he knew  _ all _ about humans and their so-called love. Humans loved themselves first and foremost, and if anyone was slightly different, then they were automatically classified as a monster and hunted to make the humans feel better about themselves. Abel looked around at the others who had been called gods before shaking his head. “If you do not know about humanity’s so-called love already, then enjoy learning about the selfishness that they wallow in,” he drawled. “I don’t need any further lessons when it comes to humans. You might as well send me back now and restore me to my actual age.”

 

“You have been brought here to learn and learn you will,” the man stated, his voice unwavering as if he hadn’t heard Abel’s words at all. “These are your fellow students, Apollo the God of the Sun, Anubis the God of the Dead, Takeru the God of the Sea, Yui a goddess, Hades the God of the Underworld, Dionysus the God of Fertility, Loki the God of Fire, Balder the God of Light, Thor the God of Thunder, and Tsukito the God of the Moon, along with spirits who will fill out the classes to make this appear as a full Academy. Thoth will be your teacher. Once you have learned, then you will be returned to Earth to continue your life.” With that, a swirl of what looked like clouds wrapped around the man before he vanished, leaving Abel alone with the other so-called gods.

 

The man with the monocle turned out to be Thoth snorted and pushed off the column, giving Abel a dark look before he swept out of the room in a swirl of his coat. Abel wanted to shout after him that it wasn’t  _ Abel’s _ fault that the blond idiot had decreed they were all stuck here, but he knew how futile it was to change anyone’s mind once they were set on what they perceived was the facts. He wondered who else was going to be angry at him for being trapped in this pretty prison and what form their anger was going to take. He was use to a lot of different forms of retribution from various people, and he was nearly to the point where he was indifferent to what others wanted to put him through in the name of fun and vengeance.

 

A polite cough drew his attention away from his thoughts, and Abel looked up to find the others moving closer to him with friendly looks on their faces. The blond who was Apollo smiled and held out a hand in greeting even as Abel continued to look at them warily. “Please excuse Zeus. As he is the King of the Greek Gods, he is rather high handed when it comes to declarations, and Lord Thoth dislikes such declarations from anyone other than his own ruler.”

 

Abel schooled his face into a polite mask as he regarded the green eyed blond. “The situation is what it is. If Lord Zeus had not decided that I need this, then Lord Thoth would not be subject to his declarations.”

 

“Let’s show you to the school store where you can get clothes and supplies,” offered Balder, a beautiful smile on his face that made Abel’s heart ache just to see. 

 

“I’m afraid I do not have any money,” Abel began, very conscious of his grubby appearance and tattered clothes. His fingers tightened on his bag, not willing to part with its contents even for supplies or new clothes.

 

“Everything’s just energy in one form or another,” drawled Dionysus with a casual shrug. “Even money. So everything in the store is free as well as all the food here.”

 

That was a strange arrangement, but it also made Abel wary. If everything was free because it was made up of energy, was there some way of tracking what was picked up in the store? He would have to take that into consideration with any plans he made. He would have to get things gradually over weeks instead of grabbing everything now to try and escape. Of course, that would give him a chance to figure out how to get back to where he was even if he couldn’t change his age.

 

@@@

 

Apollo frowned as he wandered through the hallways of the Academy. It seemed like no matter what they tried, Abel continued to be withdrawn and coolly polite, speaking to them only when necessary even as he continued being a perfect student. He turned his assignments in on time, never talked back or acted up in class, and always answered questions whenever he was asked. But he didn’t seek any of them out for friendly conversations or activities, preferring to roam the Academy on his own when he wasn’t in class, and Thor reported that he had seen Abel wandering the halls at night when he apparently couldn’t sleep. This whole thing was turning into a huge mess, and Apollo had no idea how to help Abel with the darkness he could see lurking behind ice blue eyes.

 

He turns a corner, and his frown deepens at the sight of Abel standing alone in the side hallway. It was the posture that caught Apollo’s attention more than the sight of Abel by himself, the slump of shoulders that spoke of despair than the ramrod straight and almost militaristic posture Apollo was used to seeing. Had something happened to Abel? Despite the silver haired teen’s lack of socializing, Apollo wanted to help him. Quietly, Apollo approached Abel, and his frown deepened when the Crusnik gave no indication that he knew Apollo was there. That was even more out of character for Abel who seemed to have a hyper awareness of his surroundings.

 

Reaching out, Apollo placed his hand on Abel’s shoulder to get his attention when Abel suddenly whirled around. The look in Abel’s eyes caused Apollo to hesitate for a few seconds, and he gasped in shock as he felt a knife bury itself in his stomach. His shock and pain rippled through the school even as he collapsed to the ground, his hands coming up to cradle the cheap, wooden handle sticking out of his stomach.

 

The sounds of running feet drowned out Abel’s nearly silent flight, but Apollo managed to watch Abel until he vanished around a corner as his thoughts returned to Abel’s eyes. He had been on several hunts with his sister, and the look in those ice blue eyes was very similar to the prey his sister had run to ground.

 

They were the eyes of prey who had no safe refuge and had reached the stage where they were the most desperate. Prey at that stage was just as likely to turn on the hunters as they were to seek safe harbor.

 

“Apollo! What happened?” cried Yui only to give a small scream of shock at the sight of him. He glanced down to realize that the white school uniform showed blood far too easily.

 

“It’s okay,” soothed Apollo as the others hurried around the corner. “Can someone remove the blade for me? It’s at an awkward angle.” It was one thing to be able to heal from nearly anything, but quite another in causing more damage trying to get the damaging item out of his body. That was always more of a pain than a help.

 

Huffing, Loki knelt next to him and wrapped long fingers around the handle. “You going to tell us why you were stabbed?” asked the God of Mischief as he easily removed the knife and eyed it with a disgusted look. “And with a steak knife from the commissary?”

 

The wound easily closed under his fingers as Apollo climbed to his feet. “Abel surprised me, but then I probably startled him so that lashed out instinctively.”

 

“Nightroad stabbed you?” Dionysus growled, and Apollo saw the growing fury in his cousin’s eyes. He knew he was going to have to divert that anger somewhere else because Abel certainly didn’t deserve it, not since it had been Apollo’s fault for startling him.

 

“Have you ever seen an animal that was so hunted that it couldn’t find any place of peace and safety?” Apollo asked, looking around at them as he tried to find the words to describe his feelings and observations. “The ones with an almost crazed look in their eyes that shows their desperation and they are just as likely to attack the hunter even if it means the only peace they find is in death?”

 

Thor nodded, a deep frown on his face. “More often on the larger predators that are hunted, such as wolves or bears, because they are less use to being harried in such a way.”

 

“That was the look in Abel’s eyes.” Apollo’s words were soft but they carried to all of the deities gathered around him. With a wave of his hand, his uniform was clean and neat again. “Let’s go see if we can find any clues as to where he’s gone in his room.”

 

“You don’t think he’s in his room?” asked Hades as they hurried through the hallways.

 

Apollo shook his head. “He hasn’t felt safe here or he wouldn’t have been carrying a stolen steak knife. He could have easily gotten a semi decent dagger from the school store if he had thought about it.”

 

“No,” objected Takeru, shaking his head. “He would have no way of knowing if such things are reported to Zeus. He wanted a weapon that _ no one _ knew about until he had to use it.”

 

Apollo wants to protest automatically, stating that no one would tell Zeus anything about Abel’s actions or what he gets from the school store, but he closes his mouth with a small click of teeth. It wasn’t about what they would or would not do but what _ Abel _ believed about those around him. It was all too easy to see from Abel’s point of view all of a sudden. Pulled into a strange place with overly helpful strangers, deaged until he looked like a teenager, and no obvious way out. Apollo knew that they weren’t the best at helping someone with PTSD, but Zeus refused to bring in anyone that actually could help him, leaving them to muddle along as best as they can. Yet only Anubis can actually get close to Abel, and that is more because of the fact that Anubis is simply _ there _ instead of constantly peppering Abel with words in the hopes that he will open up and talk about the demons and shadows lingering in his eyes.

 

“His room may be trapped,” Loki said as they drew closer to the room. “Not to damage it or anyone inside, but in a way to tell if someone had been in it while he was gone.”

 

Balder stumbled slightly but managed to remain on his feet. “I hate to invade his privacy like this, but for his sake, we must.”

 

All of them had been giving Abel room, allowing him to define his boundaries, and none of them had entered his room since they had escorted him to it, not wanting Abel to feel like he was being pressured into anything. Abel in return had never invited any of them into his room, and they had respected his desire to have a space that no one would invade without an invitation. There had been invitations extended for Abel to accompany them back to their rooms, but those were always politely turned down with a “Thank you, but I have to study.” Looking back on it now, Apollo had to wonder how much time Abel was actually using to study and how much of it was just an excuse to stay out of their company.

 

When they reached Abel’s rooms a few minutes later, Loki carefully examined the door before nodding. “One of the most simple tells that is easily overlooked,” he said, peeling off a bit of tape from the door and then the frame, before he held it up for the others to see. A single silver hair, barely seen, was stretched between the two bits of tape. “If it’s broken when he comes back, then someone’s been in his room.”

 

After another tense few minutes of careful examination with both eyes and godly powers, Loki declares the door safe and surprisingly unlocked. Loki motions for the others to stay back as he opened the door, and it was another tense few minutes before the fire god gave the all clear. Apollo entered and looked around the very tidy room, wondering for a few seconds if he had been wrong. School books were neatly placed on a shelf while a few notebooks lay open on the table with a pen, as if Abel had just stepped out for a moment to get a snack.

 

“Why does he have this?” Yui asked, picking up a small plastic container from off of Abel’s dresser. Apollo watched her turn it over in her hands, and he thought it looked like a container for foundation. Yui rarely wore make up, so his knowledge of such things are vague at best. She glanced around at everyone before walking over to Loki. “Let me try something.”

 

“You’re not going to draw funny things on my face, are you?” Loki joked as Yui opened the container. She gave him a look that reminded him that _ Loki _ was the one who enjoyed pulling that prank on others, before she started running the sponge she had taken from the container over his face, paying close attention to Loki’s eyes and chin. After a few minutes, she looked at the trickster god with a critical eye before nodding.

 

“He’s been using this to hide his appearance,” she announced, turning Loki to face the others. It took Apollo several seconds to realize what was different about Loki, but it explained the care Yui had taken around Loki’s eyes and chin. The four beauty marks the redhead normally sported were gone, hidden under the make-up.

 

“It’s a very old trick to keep from looking tired or stressed,” Yui explained, closing up the make up and putting it back on the dresser. “Every female in high school knows about it and often tell others. Use some foundation to hide the dark shadows around the eyes that are an indication that you haven’t been getting enough sleep, and no one will suspect the truth. Especially if you start wearing it on your entire face.”

 

Thoth snorted in irritation, drawing everyone’s attention to him as he dropped an open sketch book on the table with a frustrated look on his face. “Accurate blueprints of the Academy and ground, recreated in his own hand.”

 

Apollo supposed he could understand Thoth’s irritation since Abel had never really shown an indication for anything other than classwork. Such detail in reproducing accurate blueprints of the Academy was a time consuming effort and required a high skill in recalling details as no one had seen him wandering the campus with a notebook, creating the sketches.

 

@@@

 

Crouched in the small hollow, Abel quickly changed out of the very distinct and noticeable school uniform and into the homemade camouflage pants and shirt along with the hiking boots. He knew it was only a matter of time before the gods came looking for him, seeking retribution for the attack of one of their own.

 

Packing what few supplies he had stashed in the hollow, Abel slung the pack on his back before hurrying to a completely different cave. He paused at the first stream he came across to throw the uniform in the water before scooping up mud along the bank. Within a few minutes, his hair had been coated with mud and twisted up on top of his head with a couple of sticks to hold the mess in place until the mud dried. A bit of dust and dirt smeared on any visible skin, and he was off again, carefully and quickly moving deeper into the trees. He knew he couldn't keep all traces of his passing from showing, but he could make sure it took a hunter longer to find him.

 

He came across a few deep ravines with fast flowing rivers at the bottom, and the first he had flown over with a quick flap of his wings. The second, he dropped down and made his way up the rocky bank, following the river back to its source to throw hunters off his trail. A couple of times, he thought he saw something fly overhead, and he slowly eased under cover, knowing that sudden movements would attract the eye more than slow ones.

 

By the time he had climbed into the mountains, the sun was low in the sky, and Abel crawled into a small, shallow cave that was blocked by a thorn bush. He was pleased to have gotten into the cave without any scrapes or damaging the bush itself to alert hunters to his passage here. He ate a few bites of food, just enough to keep his stomach from growling, before he settled down for a brief nap. He would have to see about trying to catch a rabbit later to supplement his food supply as well as soothe his thirst for blood.

 

It would be easier to avoid his hunters by always being on the move and constantly changing his sleeping spots. He would have to be careful to not develop any pattern in such changes. Patterns would mean capture by his hunters and retribution. The other Greeks would undoubtedly be after their pound of flesh and blood, and Hades was more than likely to put a claim on him just to drag out the punishment.

 

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he woke, the thorn bush was covered in large, ripe blackberries. While he couldn't use it to tell how long he slept, he could use it to judge what season the gods had decided to turn the clock to in this strange pocket dimension. Midsummer would mean slightly  longer nights but still a _ lot _ of daylight, and there was always the chance of summer storms. However, it would mean more food to supplement what he had stashed. With his ears straining to hear if anyone was close by, Abel crept forward and began carefully eating all the blackberries he could reach. More than a few went into a container he pulled out of his bag for later. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to get back to this bush again, and if he did, if there would be any berries left.

 

He was about to emerge from his hiding spot after his crude breakfast when he caught sight of someone through the leaves. Carefully, he slowly bent a branch down, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Thoth standing a distance away talking a blonde woman that looked to be a relative of Apollo's. The net in her hands and the triple moon symbol on her brow made Abel believe that this was Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and Hunters, and Apollo's twin sister. The other gods must want to find Abel very desperately if they brought her in since the myths and legends said that she didn't get along too well with men.

 

Thoth, on the other hand, was looking very different than when Abel had last seen him. The large wings with their neat white feathers made Abel want to hide his own ruffled pinions in embarrassment and shame. He was wearing some sort of black sleeves that were more ribbon than cloth held on by black, blue, and gold armbands, along with a long white skirt that reached the ground. To Abel, the Egyptian God was even more out of his league than before, so he ruthlessly shoved his lustful feelings down to focus more on remaining uncaptured.

 

Abel couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the few gestures, he guessed that they were either comparing hunting notes or making plans. After several minutes, Artemis flew up into the sky with no visible means of support, and Abel briefly wondered how many of the other gods could fly like that before assuming all of them could. He would have to stick to the wooded areas for better cover against any aerial hunters as well as it would force people to hunt him on the ground. Most of his food caches were under rock cairns made to look like natural rock falls while a few others were stashed in trees. He hoped no animals had gotten into any, but realistically, he figured he may have already lost up to half of his caches due to animals being either hungry or curious. Quietly, Abel withdrew back into the small cave and huddled there, waiting until Thoth left the area before he would emerge.

 

The rustling of large wings approaching him had Abel forcing himself to remain relaxed, but he otherwise didn't move as he heard the soft steps stop outside his hiding spot. The bush briefly shook in a sort of rhythmic pattern, and it took him a few seconds to realize that Thoth was picking the blackberries. Closing his eyes, Abel quietly and patiently waited until the rusting had been silent for several minutes before he cautiously approached the bush again. What he found outside his little hiding hole surprised him.

 

Blackberries were scattered across the ground in front of the bush. He wouldn't be able to leave his hiding spot without disturbing the berries or severely damaging the bush. Either way, they would know he had been here and might return to this little hole if he got desperate. To leave his hiding spot meant abandoning it for good. Ah well, it was an accidental spot anyway instead of a deliberately chosen one.

 

Abel waited for another few hours before creeping out of the hollow, and he brushed the berries aside to give him a clear path. He hated wasting food like this, but there was no guarantee that the berries hadn't been tampered with in any way. When dealing with a God of Magic, anything was possible.

 

The second he was clear of the bush, he sprinted for the edge of the little ledge and dove off the side. He spread his wings just long enough to glide down to the forest below instead of falling, and the second he hit the leaves, he was back into his human form and racing through the brush, once more seeking temporary shelter.

 

@@@

 

Artemis certainly had to give Abel Nightroad credit for bravery and brains. Far too many mortals ran themselves into exhaustion within the first few hours of being hunted by any god. Yet, he had managed to avoid all twelve deities hunting for him for a full moon cycle. Oh sure, there were the occasional interruptions for their various duties, but there was at least one deity searching at all times.

 

At first, she had been furious over his attack on her brother, and she had sworn that she'd have vengeance for Apollo, no matter how her twin had begged for leniency. Yet as the days passed and the signs of Nightroad were vague and fleeting, her anger was replaced with admiration. There had been a few times when she had been sure he was caught only for him to slip away like mist.

 

Several bolt holes with supplies had been discovered and cleaned out, but the decrease in food hadn't seemed to bother Nightroad at all. They had moved everything they had found into a large cave that was centralized in their hunting ground, and they had hoped to lure Nightroad there to talk but he continued to remain elusive.

 

Crouching in a tree, Artemis stretched her senses out through the forest. It had taken her the full moon cycle, but she was now in tune with the plants in this strange little dimension. It was a small trick that made her such an excellent hunter as the plants themselves told her where her prey was.

 

At first, there was only the wind and the sun as the plants whispered in delight of the dew that was slowly evaporating in the morning light. She allowed their joy to sweep through her, knowing plants couldn't be rushed because of their slow and patient nature. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, she knew where feet were crushing leaves of grass, and she quietly phased in several feet behind the owner of those feet. It actually took her a few seconds to realize what she was looking at because at first glance, it looked like nothing more than a pile of dirt, twigs, and leaves.

 

Then she realized that the long silver hair had been caked in mud and piled on his head to dry while some twigs had been added for camouflage. The clothes were covered in dirt and dried mud with grass, twigs, and leaves sticking to the cloth, and all visible skin was dusty. She couldn't smell him, so he was apparently washing beyond the occasional rainstorm they had experienced, but it was quite obvious that he wasn't washing his clothes nor caring when they got dirty. After all why not? The dirt on his clothes just added to his camouflage.

 

“You are one of the most cunning and wily prey I have ever hunted,” Artemis drawled, leaning on her spear.

 

He spun around where he was balanced on the balls of his feet, and she noticed that his eyes as lost a little bit of their wild desperation from Apollo's description. Under the dust, she could see that his face was rather gaunt as if he hadn't been getting enough to eat, and she knew the others, Hestia especially, would love to feed him until his buttons popped.

 

Grinning, Artemis crouched down to balance on the balls of her feet and rested her spear across her thighs as she met his red gaze. “Most mortals run themselves out within the first few hours, but you've avoided twelve gods and goddesses for twenty-eight days,” she remarked, and she noticed a flash of surprise on his face. Was it for the compliment or the amount of time he had been running? “Why don't we head back to the school, and you can enjoy a long hot shower before we all sit down and talk?”

 

“No,” Nightroad rasped, and she watched as a blanket fell off his back to reveal a pair of glossy if slightly rumpled black feathered wings. “I won't return to that pretty prison for all the comforts in the known universe.” A bitter smile twisted his blackened lips. “Besides, I figure you'd want revenge first for the stabbing of your twin.”

 

“At first, but he was healed before you hit the outside grounds,” Artemis remarked with a shrug of her shoulders. “Then you became a challenge and a puzzle I had to solve.”

 

That earned her some harsh, mocking laughter that she didn't think was directed at her. “I'm no more a puzzle than any other weapon,” he drawled, and she tensed slightly as the desperation seemed to flare up in his eyes once more. “Besides, mortal men don't seem to last long around you according to the myths.”

 

“Most of them deserve what they got,” Artemis pointed out, and she noticed his wings were slowly opening. “And if you're thinking of running or flying off, I'll have you trussed up before you can move.”

 

At that threat, he deliberately stretched his wings as wide as they would go before casually folding them against his back. She grinned a bit at his show of defiance, glad to see that despite everything, he still had a backbone. “So why do you think the Academy is a prison?”

 

Nightroad shrugged and moved a bit farther away from the stream to stand in the shadows of a few trees. “A prison is a place where one is incarcerated and unable to leave until they have been sufficiently punished. While in said prison, good behavior is rewarded, bad behavior is subject to further punishment, and any attempts at individuality is ruthlessly suppressed out of one's cell. Knowledge may also be offered but in many cases, it is not desired.” He gave her a flat look. “Sounding familiar yet?”

 

“You forgot the part about the grumpy warden who wants everyone to suffer because he does,” Artemis pointed out with a smile even as her stomach clenched. If that was how he saw the Academy, then there was very little chance of getting him back there without hurting him. His comparison between the Academy and a prison was unfortunately rather accurate, at least from his point of view.

 

“Do you mean Thoth?” asked Nightroad, watching her with a wary expression.

 

“Nope, Zeus,” she countered with an even brighter smile, hoping to get a positive reaction out of him, even if just a small smile of his own. “Seems he hit on the wrong woman who told him no, and when he didn't take the hint, she called down the Wrath of Hera on him.”  She rose to her feet and looked at him, her mirth falling away. “Why didn't you accept your sister's offer to stay in the Empire with her?”

 

“The Empire is her kingdom, and I can't hide behind a woman's skirts for the rest of my life, no matter how fierce the woman is,” Nightroad stated, briefly closing his eyes, exhaustion and weariness in every line of his body before he straightened to look at her again. “Besides, she has her own problems and doesn't need me or my demons causing her more.”

 

“Artemis gave a thoughtful humm as she stared at him. Athena and Psyche both had diagnosed Nightroad with severe PTSD from what the other gods had told them, but Artemis wondered if his problems went deeper than that. “What would it take to get you to return to the Academy voluntarily and allow everyone there to help settle your demons and heal you?”

 

That bitter, mocking laugh spilled out of him again as he shook his head. “Nothing. I refuse to be incarcerated again. At least out here, everything is my choice.”

 

“And if  you end up dying out here?”

 

He flicked his fingers as if brushing her concerns aside. “Then I die and go to whatever afterlife is waiting for me.” A wistful smile crossed his face for a few moments.  “Perhaps then, I will finally be safe and warm.”

 

“There are several lands of the dead,” announced Hades, and Nightroad whirled away from the trees, a wicked looking scythe appearing in his hands. Artemis turned her lead slightly to keep an eye on Nightroad as the rest of the deities, minus Zeus, emerged from the trees and spread out. Hades spread his hands slightly. “I am sure a few of them will offer you safety and warmth.”

 

Apollo took a step towards Nightroad, his hands out in a helpless gesture. “We have been very worried about you, Abel-Abel. Yui took over the Garden and the Academy before kicking Zeus out for how he's been ignoring your problems instead of helping you deal with them.”

 

“And how did you do that?” drawled Nightroad, narrowing his eyes at them. “Dangle someone in front of him long enough to take over?”

 

Artemis burst out laughing because they had done something like that once before to Zeus to accomplish their goals. The mortal had been well rewarded afterwards and safe from Hera's wrath since it had been something that she wanted done.

 

“I traded my favor from Zeus for the Garden and Academy,” Yui stated, stepping forward to stand next to Apollo. “And since then, I have been encouraging the plants to produce food for you and keep the weather as pleasant as possible so you are comfortable.”

 

“Why? What's the catch?” demanded Nightroad, taking a step back to put him under the shade of the trees. “No god _ ever _ offers help or a deal without a catch.”

 

“why don't we sit down and talk about everything in a reasonable manner,” Balder said with a sweet smile. “But first, allow me to replaced the knife you lost with a better quality one.” He drew a strange looking dagger carefully from a sheath at his waist and offered it, hilt first, to Nightroad. “It's made of mistletoe so it will affect even me.”

 

Nightroad stared at Balder in shock and made a sound similar to that of a wounded animal's before everything fell apart. Lightning crackled down the scythe to head for the gods, but Thor swung Mjölnir, batting the lightning at a nearby tree which promptly caught on fire. Yui yelped in surprise as a cold wind blew through the area, and all the leaves turned red and orange, flickering in the sunlight. There was an ominous crack as the burning tree split from the lightning damage, and Artemis found herself watching in stunned horror as the tree fell right on top of Nightroad, pinning him to the ground. Why hadn't he moved. Was this some sort of trick to escape again?

 

“No!” screamed Psyche as she raced to the downed tree, and Loki quickly extinguished the flames, leaving smoking wood behind. “Apollo! He's suffocating!”

 

Instantly, the others rushed forward to help. Thor and Takeru managed to move the tree off of Nightroad who lay as if he was still trapped, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Apollo placed glowing hands on Nightroad's chest before slowly working them upward as he sought out the damage.

 

“Yui, we need cool, misting rain,” Psyche ordered, pulling Nightroad's head into her lap and placing her hands on each side of his face. “He's trapped in a flashback where he's burning.”

 

“I'm going for his sister,” Dionysus announced. “If anyone has a better idea how to help him, she will.”  In a swirl of red wine, he was gone.

 

“He's managed to close off his larynx and part of his trachea,” growled Apollo, his hands glowing brighter where they rested on Nightroad's throat even as a fine mist started. “I'm keeping it open and him breathing, but if he doesn't snap out of this soon, I may end up doing more harm than good.”

 

“Then we'll give him something else to focus on,” Artemis declared, dropping to her knees across from Apollo and pulling the dagger from her belt. Before anyone could stop her, she had nicked her wrist and held it over Nightroad's open mouth. She had to suppress her natural healing ability or the would would close before enough blood had dripped into his mouth to catch his attention. If she could rouse his instincts to feed, it might bring him out of the flashback and allow Apollo to heal what little damage had been done.

 

She yelped in surprise when Nightroad suddenly sank his fangs into her wrist, and both Psyche and Apollo breathed twin sighs of relief. After a few minutes, Psyche reached into a small pouch on her waist, and she sprinkled a bit of golden sand over Nightroad’s eyes before he quickly fell asleep.

 

“Is it okay for him to sleep?” Athena asked with a concerned frown. “I mean, he just suffered a flashback and is ripe for some lovely, soul shredding nightmares.”

 

“Morpheus gave this sand to me. It allows for only pleasant and restful sleep,” Psyche explained, looking down at Nightroad. “I only use it in extreme cases to provide some much needed rest.”

 

Tsukito hummed and looked around. “The central cave is not far from here,” he remarked. “Would he not be more comfortable there instead of outside on the ground?”

 

Apollo nodded, rising to his feet. “His system has had some nasty shocks in a short amount of time. I’d like to get him undercover and out of this mist before he comes down with something serious.” He shook his head, damp blond hair sticking to his skin. “His immune system is under a lot of stress just because of what he has been through, and I don’t want it taxed any further than necessary.”

 

Bending down, Thor attempted to pick Nightroad up but found it difficult in dealing with the wings. Finally Thoth bent down and gathered him up in his arms as Artemis scooped up the pack of supplies that Nightroad had dropped, wrinkling her nose at the dried dirt that fell off the cloth.

 

“Should we clean him off?” she asked as they teleported to the cave. She frowned at the cramped quarters before expanding the cave in a wave of power to give them all a decent room without crowding each other. A wide ledge rose up from the floor and pillows and blankets shamelessly stolen from the Academy appeared on it in a makeshift mattress. “Although after so long of sleeping in the dirt, he may be use to it by now.”

 

Balder and Yui arranged the blankets and pillows into a comfortable bed before Thoth lowered Nightroad to it. Balder pulled a blanket over Nightroad with a small shake of his head. “We’ll wait until his sister arrives and seek her advice,” he stated before glancing around at the others. “Better to error on the side of caution.”

 

The various deities created seats and got comfortable around the cave as they waited as there was honestly nothing else to do.


	8. Owls Fly Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Fiction in a world where demon hunting is a deadly profession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a darker series I'm working on and so far, this is the only bit of the story that has been typed up on the computer. I have ideas where this is going to go, but nothing typed up.
> 
> Also, from here on out, it will be all original fiction.

 

Raven swayed as she was led down the aisle, the grip on her arm tight enough to leave bruises. The king was apparently afraid that she was going to somehow run in her condition when the reality was that she could barely walk. She would have laughed if she wasn’t conserving what energy she had left for one one final act of defiance. There were quiet whispers in the chapel, and more than a few wondered if she was well enough to actually survive the ceremony. If she collapsed, Raven figured they would just continue the ceremony without her consent. Not that she agreed to this to begin with, but that apparent mattered very little to Phillip Dantares, King of Desmondes. 

A stately looking man perhaps a decade older than her stood at the front of the chapel, and she felt a slightly hysterical giggle tickle her throat at the concerned look on his face. Was he afraid he was gaining a damaged or sickly bride? Or did he know that she was an Owl being passed off as the lost princess? 

She staggered as her foot hit a wrinkle in the rug, and she would have fallen if the grip in her arm hadn’t tightened enough to draw a pained hiss from her The king hauled her upright, getting another hiss from her, but this one was more anger than pain. She loathed being dragged around like a piece of baggage, and if the king wasn’t in trouble enough by this farce of a wedding, then she would have enjoyed making his life miserable for his treatment of her.

As soon as she was upright, the groom reached out and pulled the veil off her face, taking with it several strands of brittle hair. Snarling, he threw the veil to the floor, and she stared at him with fever bright eyes, not bothering to resist the urge to give him a slightly crazed grin. The anger was rather refreshing to see on another’s face.

“Who is this, Dantares?” the groom demanded, pointing a finger at Raven. “This is  _ not _ Princess Ravanna that I met last night!”

She didn’t bother to stop the slightly crazed cackle that burst out of her throat. “Showed you a maid and kept the chosen bride in the dungeons,” she taunted, more to Dantares than the groom even as her free hand came up to grab the collar of her dress. “Wouldn’t do to have the poor groom stood up or run from the bride!”

“This  _ is _ Princess Ravanna, your bride as per the treaty between our kingdoms,” Dantares stated in a regal voice, and he shook Raven, causing her head to flop around as she continued cackling like a mad woman. “Stop that infernal noise this instant, young lady!”

“Not a lady,” Raven stated, feeling the tiny buttons that closed the back of the dress popping free, and with a staccato like sound, she pulled the concealing silk to her waist, revealing her heartstone to everyone in the chapel. The groom hissed through his teeth, as she threw the last of her energy into three words. “Owls fly free!”

Screams split the air as the large windows suddenly exploded inward, sending glass spraying over the people assembled there, and the surprise was enough for Dantares to release Raven’s arm. She collapsed where she was, unable to move any further as the Owls who had burst through the windows quickly swarmed the guards, easily disarming them before encircling the chapel, ensuring that no one left until they allowed it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” shouted Dantares, and he sounded both furious and scared. “Guards! Seize the intruders!”

“Your guards will not be able to help you,  your majesty,” stated a firm voice, and Raven managed to lift her head to see two familiar Owls walking down the center aisle. One had iron gray hair and a beard while the other was clean shaven with his brown hair pulled back in a waist long braid. Steel, the Elder Owl, stopped a few feet away and folded his arms across his chest as he fixed the king with an unwavering gaze. 

The other Owl dropped to his knees next to Raven, and gathered her up into his arms. For a few seconds, she could only blink at him as if expecting him to fade away. “Hawk?”

“I’m here, my little Raven,” soothed Hawk, shifting her so her head lay against his chest, and she closed her eyes, feeling completely drained. She could rest now since she was finally safe. The Strix had arrived


	9. A Plan Comes Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at writing a Wild West Fantasy story. Still working on it and other Strange Tales from Sanctuary.

The town of Sanctuary was suspiciously quiet as the dozen figures rode slowly down the main street. There was no sign of anyone in the frontier town, and even the animals were silent as if somehow knowing that the new arrivals were dangerous despite their dusty clothes and mix of races. At some unseen signal, two riders peeled off of the group to head down a couple of side streets, and a few minutes later, another pair mirrored their actions. Within minutes, only an orc, a human, and two elves were left riding down the street.

As they approached the center of town, the first sign of life appeared in the form of a fox kin. The vixen’s black hair was a mess, and her dress was buttoned wrong, providing large gaps in the fabric to show off her camisole that was stretched over her three pairs of breasts. She grumbled under her breath about “too early” and “need coffee” as she half staggered out of the local house of negotiable affections and stumbled towards the tavern across the street.

“Where’re you going, sweetheart?” called the elf wearing the slightly more expensive looking clothes, a leer on his face as he leaned forward to rest his folded arms on the pommel of his saddle. The gun strapped around his waist gleamed in the hot autumn sun, looking more like a show piece than one that had seen actual use.

That caused the vixen to pause in her trek for her sacred beverage and turned to glare at the elf with the expression of one who was attempting to incinerate a target with just her eyes. “I am going for coffee,” she announced in a polite voice even as her expression didn’t change. “If you wish any more of my time, speak with them Madame.”

The riders exchanged amused glances before sliding off of their horses. The reigns were tossed to the elf that had spoken, and he lead them off to the side where they would be available but out of the way. The orc glanced around at the silent town before nodding to the human and remaining elf, and they grabbed the vixen’s arms, getting a furious shriek from her as she started struggling, her hair and dress getting more rumpled with her determination to escape.

“Listen up!” bellowed the orc, turning in a slow circle as he carefully watched the town for any other signs of life even as his voice echoed through the mix of wood and stone buildings. “I am Borug Brokentusk, leader of the Brokentusk Gang. You are currently harboring someone who took something of ours.”

There was no movement save for a couple of curtains swaying in the light breeze that danced down the street, and Borug snorted as he pulled his revolver, aiming it at the still struggling vixen. “Come out, Morfindien, and bring the money with you, or the vixen eats lead.”

“It’s never smart to threaten the life of your only hostage,” drawled a voice as the sound of bootheels on the boardwalk echoed through the streets, and Borug whirled around with his gun coming to bear on the new arrival.

  
  


Twenty Four Hours Earlier

 

With a grunt and a heave, Sheriff Grimnir Silvertongue manhandled Johnny Quickfingers onto the thin cot before slamming the door shut with an almost deafening clang. Absinthe grinned at the elf as she leaned against the stone wall, casually stroking the head of the black and brilliant green king cobra that was calmly curled around her arm.

“You and Kaseem almost always bring back the most cooperative bounties out of everyone,” chuckled Grimnir, moving over to his desk and digging out some papers.

She laughed as she shifted her attention from the elf to the dwarf. “It does help that we can bring them back paralyzed,” she remarked, giving the snake a fond look. “Of course, Mr. Quickfingers here couldn’t tell the difference between a stick and a snake and made the mistake of grabbing Kaseem unexpectedly.” She paused in her petting of Kaseem to shake a finger at Quickfingers. “You should have stayed back east where you wouldn’t have run into all of this wilderness.”

If Quickfingers had been able to, she was pretty sure he would have filled the air with threats and curses, but that was one of the beautiful advantages to her Naga partner’s venom. It turned the muscles to jelly, figuratively speaking, and didn’t allow the vocal chords to vibrate even if the victim could move their mouth. It wasn’t a ploy they used often because if too many realized that Kaseem was more dangerous than he appeared, then it was more than likely bullets and other dangerous things would start heading for the Naga.

Grimnir shook his head before he looked at her with a serious expression. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask,but will you take an IOU for the bounty this time?”

“What happened?” she asked, a frown crossing her elfin features  as she straightened from her slouch against the wall. THe sheriff  _ never _ offered IOUs unless something serious had happened to the bank. The last time that she could remember such an offer, all the bank workers from the branch manager on down to the cleaning lady had managed to catch the crimson spots, and the bank had to close for a week while they recovered.

“The Brokentusk Gang robbed the bank,” sighed the dwarf, running a hand over his braided silver streaked black beard. “Got away with the tax money and most of the rest in the vault. Including some freshly prospected rocks that Gazmarble had just deposited the day before.”

A small growl of irritation slipped out of Absinthe before she could stop it, but the Brokentusk Gang had been an irritation in the bounty hunter circles for a while, but the last she had heard, they had been annoying people over near the White Teeth Mountains, two territories to the west. Harassing travelers with made up tolls, hitting a couple of the smaller mining towns in the mountains, and generally taking whatever was edible or valuable, depending on their mood at the time. A bank robbery was definitely something new and possibly showed that they were growing more confident in their skills or someone new had taken over. Either way, it bothered her that they had been able to get all the way to Sanctuary without anyone noticing them. 

“Thought they were two territories over,” she said, resisting the urge to start pacing. “Ataleo hasn’t mentioned them roving this far east.”

“No offense to the Count and his contacts, but if they were keeping quiet and came up the river on the south side, he probably wouldn't have known,” Grimnir pointed out before shaking his head again. “Dunno why they decided to pick on us, but there are two local boys with them now.”

This was getting better and better. Taking off her hat, Absinthe sank into the visitor’s chair in front of his desk. “These boys, are they part of the gang or hostages?”

“Not sure to be honest,” he confessed with a small shrug. “Amendil Morfindien may have signed on, being the walking trouble that he is, but for his cousin, Eli Morfindien, it may be a case of wrong place at wrong time.”

“How far did you and your deputies chase them?” she asked as Kaseem slithered out of her arms to coil up on the floor. She huffed in slight irritation and pointed a finger at the eighteen foot long snake. “No shifting unless you put pants on this morning. I doubt the sheriff wants to stare at your naked butt while we talk.”

A soft green light enveloped Kaseem before reforming into an attractive and slender man with ebony black skin and emerald markings similar to what he wore as a serpent. Absinthe was relieved her nudist of a lover was indeed wearing a pair of pants, mainly because she was greedy and prefered to share Kaseem and his delightful assets with only one other person.

“My butt is very nice, and it is an honor to stare at it,” remarked Kaseem in a smooth voice that never failed to send pleasant shivers down her spine, and he grinned at her, strong white teeth a bright contrast to his ebony skin. “However, that is pleasure, and this is business.”

“We managed to track them as far as the Blue Ribbon River,” Grimnir announced, obviously ignoring the light teasing between the partners. “Unfortunately, they used the water to cover their escape. We couldn’t find any tracks on the other side of the river, and we searched for the rest of the day.”

Which meant that they could be almost anywhere by now, and Absinthe was the best tracker in the territory by default due to being the main bounty hunter of Sanctuary and its territory. “I request at least half an hour to review the information and a hot meal before we get back on Erda to go after this gang.”

It might have been selfish of her, but at this point, either the boys were hostages, willing members of the gang, or a mix of the two. Hostages would have a ransome coming, unless they just turned him loose in the plains to fend for himself which was also a possibility. Either way, a half hour for a meal and more information wouldn’t hurt, not with Erda, an earth elemental disguised as a horse. 

Grimnir nodded and handed her the IOU for Quickfingers who was starting to stir, indicating that Kaseem’s venom was wearing off. “I’ll take you to the bank for a first hand look after you put in your order at the Tavern. Whiskey should have your meals ready by the time you get back.”

“I’ll go let him know what we want and meet you at the bank,” Kaseem announced with a small bow to Absinthe with his hand over his heart. She knew he meant it in the most respectful way, but those that didn’t know their relationship sometimes took it wrong, thinking the Naga was a servant or worse, slave to the green haired elf. “I shall count the beats of my heart until we are reunited.”

She snorted and took her hat off long enough to leave a bit of dust on his arm where she lightly hit him with it. “Smooth talker. Save that sort of language for when we don’t have a job.”

He chuckled and his legs were briefly surrounded by that pale green light before it faded to reveal a long serpent’s tail. With a wink, he slithered out the door, and she watched him go, enjoying the chance to take a few moments to simply watch him move. A knowing snicker pulled her attention away from Kaseem, and she glanced down at Grimnir who was smirking at her.

“I’m surprised you manage to get anything done out there with him tagging along,” the sheriff remarked as they started for the door, a deputy coming out of the back room to take up a seat at the sheriff’s desk. 

“Never underestimate the power of a soft bed,” she drawled with a smirk of her own. “After all, no matter how comfortable the bed roll is, there’s always that one rock determined to dig in the worst possible place.”


	10. Killer Sushi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contract killing brings two unlikely men together. How will a professional ghost hunter react when he finds himself in the sights of a trained assassin who happens to be a merman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needs more work to be polished, but it takes place in Modern Day, and it was a sheer accident that it decided to add itself to our Death and the Priest series.
> 
> Co-authored with Valerie Bruce.

In a dimly lit attic in Paris, a crone reached out to gently trace along the fine threads that made up the large spiderweb that stretched over her wall. She paused at one, her finger lightly trembling against the seemingly delicate thread before nodding with a soft chuckle. “Yes, that will do nicely.”

Turning away from the web, she moved over to the bubbling cauldron and began throwing various things into it. Soon, the thick smoke was billowing out of the chimney spreading across the Paris skyline.

 

The hard voice of Mr. Lordi demanding if anyone could love a monsterman split the peaceful quiet of the cottage, and storm gray eyes opened as a hand tipped with claw-like nails  reached for the smartphone. A few seconds of fiddling, and the music was silenced.

“Andre DuPre, there is a job for you,” announced a voice over the speaker of the phone.

“Bonjour to you as well, Adrian,” drawled the musical voice of Andre as he stretched in the bath tub, causing the water to splash against his scales. “How soon does this job need to be completed?”

There was a chuckle from Adrian. “Sorry, Sushi, you’re going to have to move fast on this one.”

“I have mentioned how much I detest that nickname, haven’t I?” sighed Andre, sitting up in the tub. The gills at his neck and ribs flared in an irritated exhale even as his tail slipped fully under the water with a soft splash.

“Then you argue with Amia over it,” countered Adrian, and Andre could hear the smile in the vampire’s voice.  It was Andre’s curse and blessing to have been trained by the famous Adrian DuPre and his Warrior Wife, Amia, and one he wouldn’t have traded for all the world. Yet there were times when he disliked Amia’s sense of humor, especially since he couldn’t beat her in a fight for saddling him with the nickname of ‘Sushi’.

“I’m rather fond of my scales,” Andre stated before sighing softly as he transformed from a merman to a human. Climbing out of the tub, he quickly dried off and twisted his waist length black hair up into a towel. “What can you tell me about the job?”

“Your target is one Keses McGraw,” Adrian said as Andre sat down at his desk. “McGraw managed to get ahold of something he was going to auction off on the Black Market. There is a retrieval team already heading for that. You are to permanently remove him.”

Andre hummed as he quickly brought up his target’s file from the secure e-mail the clan had created for all of those in the field. “A creature of habit,” he mused, eyeing the list of clubs the man enjoyed and the date next to each one. Tonight’s usual club was only a block from the docks. “Consider it done.”

“I expect your confirmation in the morning, Sushi,” Adrian said before hanging up.

Andre studied the file for several more minutes, getting a feel for his target. An average looking man with brown hair and eyes, a bit on the pudgy side with the start of a gut that indicated he was rather lazy and not willing to exert himself any more than he had to as evident by the wrinkled clothing he wore with a sloppy indifference in the picture. A note on the file stated that McGraw was rumored to sometimes drug his bedroom conquests of the night to make them more agreeable to his desires, and that he seemed to be more attracted to the foreign ladies.

_ Well, that certainly won’t do _ , thought Andre as he rose from the desk and moved over to his large, walk in closet to figure out the perfect outfit to bait the trap.

 

The pounding beat matched the flickering lights inside the club, and Andre stood at the bar, nursing a lemon water. With his long hair caught up in a high tail, a touch of makeup, and his clothes draped just right on his slender figure, he looked like a very attractive woman in her late twenties looking for a good time out. Absently, he tapped his claws against his glass in time with the beat of the latest song playing as his eyes flickered around the club again. McGraw always came to the bar when he first arrived which was why Andre had set up his spot here, hoping to catch McGraw’s eye first before the target could secure another woman for the night.

Andre was almost thinking about shifting to another section of the bar when the crowd parted enough to let one Keses McGraw through, and if he hadn’t been so well trained, Andre would have smirked. As McGraw reached the bar, Andre took a step sideways as if to avoid someone on the other side, and yelped as he “accidentally” fell into McGraw by the simple act of overbalancing on his high heels. His lemon water was spilled across the bar, causing the nearby patrons to curse and move away as Andre babbled apologies in French. 

It took him a few minutes to ‘regain’ his balance, and during the entire time, he was holding onto McGraw as if the man was the only steady thing in the club. McGraw seemed amused and delighted to have a foreign looker holding onto him. Finally, Andre was on his feet, and he plucked a few napkins out of the holder on the bar in an attempt to wipe up the spilled water. Before he could, however, McGraw reached out and took the napkins from him with what Andre was sure was suppose to be a charming smile, but the merman had seen more charming smiles on barracudas.

“Here, let me help you, miss…” McGraw trailed off with a hopeful look, expecting Andre to supply the requested name.

Blushing slightly, Andre offered a shy smile. “Andrea Lémieux, m’seur,” he murmured, his voice soft and husky, giving it a more feminine sound. “And who are you?”

“My name is Keses McGraw, and if I had known that a French beauty was going to fall into my lap tonight, I would have brought a pillow to prevent bruises,” McGraw said in a flirty manner. Andre giggled and looked away, knowing he had McGraw hooked when a thick arm slipped around his waist to pull him close. A movement beside him, and a fresh drink was placed in front of him. “Here, to replace the one you lost.”

“Merci, m’seur McGraw,” giggled Andre as he lifted the glass to his lips, pretending to take a drink. The strong scent of alcohol assaulted his nose, and he had to wonder if the drink was drugged or if McGraw was going to wait a few drinks before making his move. Lowering his drink, he absently ran his finger around the rim of the glass and letting the tip of his claw stir the surface of the liquid. After a few rotations, the special polish he had on turned a faint shade of red, and Andre instantly added minutes to McGraw’s death. If there was one thing he disliked, it was someone who used date-rape drugs to get laid.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing so far from France?” inquired McGraw, oblivious to Andre’s actions.

Andre shrugged a shoulder. “I am a student of exchange, coming to beautiful San Francisco to study art,” he announced in a thick French accent, flashing McGraw a bright smile. “Perhaps find a husband among handsome and rich American men to…” He frowned in concentration. “What is word… to make nice on someone’s feelings?”

“To appease?” suggested McGraw with a smile at Andre.

“Yes!” Andre’s whole face lit up as if he was ecstatic to find the right word. “To appease Mere and Pere into letting me stay here to study.”

McGraw chuckled and reached up to trace his thumb along Andre’s cheek. “I don’t see a pretty thing like you having any trouble landing a handsome husband.”

Shyly smiling, Andre turned his head away in apparent embarrassment even as he subtly poured some of his drink into McGraw’s partially empty glass to make it seem like Andre was actually drinking the drugged alcohol. They casually chatted a bit with Andre pretending to drink and McGraw getting a bit more familiar than he should with a stranger. 

Finally, after several minutes in inane chatting, Andre put his glass down and swayed towards McGraw, acting as if he was being affected by the drugged drink. He curled a hand around McGraw’s arm and giggled as he tugged his target towards the club door. 

“Come, let us enjoy l’air de la nuit,” Andre purred with a seductive grin even as he wobbled with each step. “Vous ne le regretteres paz.” Andre wouldn’t regret anything this night, and he was sure that McGraw certainly wouldn’t have any regrets once their little meeting was concluded. 

Outside, Andre walked with his face turned towards McGraw and away from the line that was stretched down the block. All any of those standing in line would remember was a guy walking away with a giggling pretty lady on his arm on his way to getting very lucky. It only took a little bit of subtle manipulation to get McGraw down to the docks where the fog was starting to creep in a bit, and Andre eyed it before dismissing it as a threat to his mission. He honestly didn’t want to swim out of the harbor, but if he ended up lost in a thick fog, it may come down to that. He’d taken a cab to the club so he didn’t have to worry about getting back to his car before some cop ticketed it for being parked illegally.

When he heard the water splashing against the pylons of the docks, Andre tightened his grip on McGraw’s shirt before clamping his other across the man’s mouth. With a twist and a shove, Andre threw them both into the water, controlling their entry to make as small of a splash as possible considering their combined body mass. As soon as he entered the water, he allowed his rib gills to surface under his shirt, and while he wouldn’t be breathing as easily as if he had both sets out, he wouldn’t instantly be pegged as a mer by anyone who might be out for a midnight swim.

McGraw struggled in his grip, desperately trying to get to the surface as Andre pulled him farther out into the bay where they wouldn’t be heard by anyone walking along the docks. When he was sure they were far enough out, Andre allowed McGraw to surface for a few moments, just long enough to get a fresh lung-full of air before he pulled him under the surface by his pant legs. There was less of a chance of strange bruises on the corpse this way to make this seem like anything other than a tragic accident.

Occasionally, Andre might inform the person as to why they were dying or even why he was dragging their deaths out, but he decided that McGraw wasn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate such information. Andre allowed him to surface two more times before dragging him deeper into the water, and he held him down there until he stopped moving completely. A few more moments to verify that his target was very much dead, and he released the body as he swam towards shore, already thinking up an excuse to give the cabbie when he was picked up. 

The tide continued rolling out, gently carrying the corpse of Keses McGraw with it.

 

Carver McGraw dropped the heavy bag of electronic equipment onto the already full kitchen table, then dropped himself wearily into a chair. The jet lag of the flight from Ireland was diligently trying to kill him but before he gave in to it, he had to get the equipment unpacked and stowed away in proper fashion. Then he planned to go face down in the nearest soft surface and sleep for at least two days. Being a ghosthunter by trade was usually interesting and challenging but this last case had taken a lot out of him. Partially because something had gone *through* him and then put him on the floor.  It had taken a lot out of his team as well but they’d rallied nicely just as they always did. He leaned his head back against the chair for a moment, thinking. It probably hadn’t been the wisest thing to do when he’d been called in to investigate odd happenings at an old castle ruin near a supposed Faerie Rath. However, his curiosity had the bite of a pitbull with a steak most days and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to investigate in a country where nearly every damn inch was more or less haunted.

He had just started unpacking everything when the instrument in his hand started beeping wildly. Followed shortly by every other instrument in the room. He glanced briefly at the clock that read three thirteen in the morning.

He sighed heavily. “Seems as though the dead begin to stir,” he said, putting the EMF detector in his hand down on the table and waiting for whomever it was to manifest. Had to be family because those were the only ghosts who could get into his house. 

He sighed a little as a heavy grey and black mass began to form and congeal in his kitchen. The pissy and sometimes flat out vile spirits always tended to manifest in that particular fashion and he frankly wasn’t sure he was up to dealing with it right now. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter. The spirit began to take form, bubbling and stretching before finally moving into a human outline. Carver tilted his head a little, studying the ghost. It was grainy at first, like an old black and white movie, then came more sharply into focus. The extremities filled in first, showing a big man before finally filling in the features of his cousin, Keses.

Carver sighed a little. In all honesty, he had been expecting something like this for ages now. Not his cousin’s ghost being in his kitchen so much as Keses ending up dead by either murder or misadventure due to his own stupidity.

The lights in the kitchen flickered and all of the equipment continued to beep and flash until Carver shut everything off.

“So, do something stupid to get yourself killed or did some pissed off father shoot you?” Carver asked, setting the digital voice recorder down.

“Fuck you, Egghead,” Keses’ ghost snarled.

“Charming, as always. What do you want? I just got in from Ireland and I’m tired as hell.”

“Find out what killed me, you fuck.”

“Wait a nanosecond, find out *what* killed you not *who*?” Carver asked, looking at his cousin’s ghost oddly.

“Yes, what. Looked like a chick but was strong enough to outmuscle ME,” Keses said, looking mightily pissed off that anyone could accomplish that.

“So, you think it was a man in drag or a trans person?”

“Hell if I know. Just find out.”

Carver sighed heavily at that. He knew Keses would never leave him alone until he figured it out. “Fine, fine, I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“No, fucking now!”

“No chance. I’m exhausted, jet lagged and had something go *through* me in Ireland. It will wait until tomorrow night at very earliest, Keses. You’re starting to fade, by the way,” Carver pointed out.

“Fuck! Get on it, Egghead. Or you won’t sleep for a goddamn month solid,” Keses said as he faded out.

Carver sighed and dropped into the chair again. “Only my family.”

  
  
  


He stood next the narrow little track that was called a road in grave error and stared at the little house. It was quaint, well tended from what he could see and completely empty at the moment. His eyes narrowed slightly as the thought about the information he'd been given concerning the usual occupant of the house. Some of the fishermen claimed he came right out of the sea. Of course, that could have just been drunken rambles. He'd have to watch more. And wait.

Humming, Andre casually walked down the beach, a sheer sarong tied around his waist as the only clothing he wore. His long black hair was braided down to his waist and blew in the light breeze as he went. It had been almost a month since his last job, and he was starting to get bored. Mayhaps he should check his usual contacts to see if there was anything interesting. If not, he could always go into the city and pick up a piece of tail at one of the clubs. Unless a fight broke out over his looks again. He grinned, remembering the last fight he had finished when some drunk thought he was a too pretty girl. That had been fun.

Carver sighed and shifted a little, his butt was numb from sitting on the low rock wall by the "road". It couldn't hurt to get up and stretch his legs, he thought, shoving a piece of red hair out of his face as the wind blew it around.

Andre stopped humming as he spotted a flash of something out of place near his little house. If he was a gambling man, he would suspect an uninvited guest, but he was more level headed than to gamble. Reaching into his hair, he slid a small stiletto out of a braided lock and silently circled around into the taller grass. There were advantages to being trained by one of the most deadly vampire clans on the planet.

He sighed and got up, moving around to the beach, then sitting down to take off his shoes. No hurry, no sudden movements, just someone wanting a moonlight walk on the beach. Never mind that he had sensed someone moving in the shadows. No doubt the person the house belonged to. Interesting in that he caught glimpses of undersea castles from the other person. Maybe they were crazy. Or maybe they were something else entirely.

Moving with the wind as it rustled the long grass, Andre slipped up to study the new arrival in the moonlight. He looked harmless enough, but the fact that he was *here* near his land home, made Andre question the validity of the innocent actions.

He sighed and picked up his shoes and started to wander along the beach. He kept a sense of where the other was as he meandered along. Suspicious, slightly paranoid, very likely the individual he was interested in.  _ Gods damn it, Cuz, when you pick people to deep six you, you don't fuck around. _

Grinning, Andre watched the man wander off. Oh this was going to be interesting indeed. He mentally flipped a coin before tossing it out the window. He was bored and this one was here. Silently moving over to his house, he wandered around the corner as if he had just come outside. Of course, depending on how long this one had been watching his house depended on if they knew he hadn't been home for a while.

So, now they were playing peek a boo.He laughed a little to himself at that thought. He flopped back onto the sand. The person would either wander over to see what he was doing or they wouldn't. He had the feeling if this one wanted him dead, he'd be dead no matter what he did so he might as well relax on a nice moonlit beach.

"It's not often handsome men show up at my house and then flop down on my beach without an invitation," mused Andre, his voice slightly musical as the only betraying of his heritage. He casually strolled over, the stiletto still in his hands but he was using it to clean his long pointed nails. "Care to inform me on who you are and why you're here, mister beach flopper?"

He shrugged as best he could in the sand. "My idle curiosity has the bite of a pit bull most of the time. People say the cottage is haunted but you look really solid for a ghost," he said, squinting up at him.

Andre smirked a bit coyly as he crouched down next to the man, giving him an eyeful of the hairless skin beneath the sarong. "Liar," he whispered before his hand was around the man's throat, pinning him to the sand. He knew  _ exactly _ what the people in town said about his place because he started the rumors himself, and haunted was not on the list.

He shrugged. "I don't believe in mermen," he said. "And since I  _ am _ a ghost hunter it stood to reason the stories got skewed along the way."

"You believe in ghosts and things that go bump in the night but not those that live beneath the waves?" Andre shifted his grip so he could straddle the man, pinning arms to the sand with his legs as he sat on the man's waist.

"I believe in all sorts of things. Ghost hunting taught me that there are all sorts of legends and myths that are true and others that are simply fantasy in a diseased brain from long ago that caught hold of other imaginations. I've never seen a merperson so how do I know they exist? Ghosts, I've seen, felt and in one instance got slammed to the floor by."

"You're still a liar, Mister Ghost Hunter," Andre stated, lightly tapping the stiletto point against the man's cheek. "I don't like liars."

"I'm sure you don't. Just as I'm sure if you'd really wanted to kill me, I'd have been dead ten times ten minutes ago."

"Ooh," purred Andre, his storm gray eyes lighting up with interest. "There's more to you than just a pretty face. Still, that doesn't tell me why you're here, and pretty faces can only keep my interest for so long."

"I'd be disappointed if it did. Like I said, my curiosity has the bite of a pit bull and the place really IS interesting. Stories have to start somewhere so I make it my business to figure out why."

Andre snorted and shook his head, leaning back to fold his arms across his chest, the stiletto shining in the moonlight. "Who hired you?" His voice was bored, but there was a hard edge under his words. Who had hired this idiot to come out here? Was he bait to flush Andre out for someone? And if so, who?


End file.
